


Poker

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Fingering, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, Multi, Multi - Freeform, Oral, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Rough Sex, Spanking, Templars, Uniform Kink, assassins creed, dares, dp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 110,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of poker with the boys turns kinky</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Boston’s streets were teaming with people even at this late hour. Heading into the Green Dragon tavern, the heavy wooden door creaked ominously as you push it gently open, but surprisingly you are met with a wall of silence inside.

The bar is empty.

Completely and utterly deserted.

Well this is strange you think, as a quick glance to the left confirms that the tavern’s usual hosts are not behind the bar. Even at this hour crowds would usually be gathered here, full of drunken rowdiness, music, laughter and games.

Continuing inside, you let the door close softly behind you. With the room empty your shoes click sharply on the hard wooden floor much more loudly than normal.

‘Um-H-hello?’ You hesitantly call out, wondering where everyone is.

From the top of the stairs a tall figure appears, a fairly inebriated Thomas Hickey. He grins his usual salacious smile.

‘Well, well, look ‘oo we ‘ave ‘ere then.’

Hickey sways against the upper floor railings, glancing down at you. You know Thomas, and while not the best of characters morally; he is a lot of fun.

Heading up stairs in order to have a better conversation, you assume that Thomas must be the only one here. He can usually be found at some tavern or other at any time of the day or night.

As you reach the upper landing however, you find a large solid oak table, fully laid with tankards of ale, other bottles of alcohol, cards and money. Several of the Templars are sitting around it.

‘Gentlemen. ’ You nod in their direction as they turn from their sitting positions to greet the new visitor that is intruding on their fun time.

Haytham Kenway, Charles Lee and William Johnson all incline their head back in your direction with varying degrees of warmth at your appearance.

Thomas slides back to his chair at the table and lifts a large mug of ale for a long swallow. You watch him amused as he sloshed some of it onto the table top and gives you the usual mischievous grin he is well known for.

‘Where is everyone?’ You enquire as they prepare to resume their game. The Grandmaster shrugs.

‘The hostess Catharine and her estranged partner Mr Nolan are trying to…patch up their differences. The tavern has been closed for the evening.’

‘I don’t know who to feel sorrier for.’ Charles Lee makes a sarcastic comment from the far side of the table. Haytham’s lips merely quirk in response while William snorts derisively into his own tankard.  

Having met the inn keep and her paramour before you understand his meaning, both are an odious as one another.

Lee’s attention focuses on you, cold green eyes raking appraisingly across your face. He has never been the politest of men when you have met him previously, although he does have a kind of self-assured arrogance coupled with dark hair and intense eyes that makes him reasonably attractive. If he could only improve his attitude you think, more people might actually like him.

 ‘What are you doing here and just how did you get in? Is the door not locked?’ His tone is accusing.

‘No, _Sir_.’ You drawl sarcastically, making sure he notes the infliction in your voice. ‘The door downstairs was open. And this is a tavern is it not? It provides food, drink and rooms. What did you think I was here for, shopping?’

You normally try and not sound haughty but Lee can be extremely rude and at times despite the Grandmasters best efforts to prompt him into gentler action.

‘Are you looking for a room for the night, lass?’ Johnson deflects hostilities. His tone is more polite and considerate. You have often found him much more pleasant company than Charles, who is currently glaring at you across the table.

‘No, no.’ You reply airily, turning towards William. ‘Just the food and drink. I was not expecting the tavern to be closed at ten o’clock at night.’

Glancing at the chaos across the table you smile. ‘Well it is nice to see as a headquarters you boys are putting it to good use, cards and-‘ you pick up and sniff a bottle of dark amber liquid sitting at Haytham's elbow ‘-whiskey! Working hard I see gentlemen?’

The Grandmaster and Charles shoot you an unimpressed look. Hickey and Johnson, however, grin into their glasses. Thomas doesn’t quite manage to hide the snort of amusement lost in his mug and the returning look Charles gave the man was pure venom.  There must be some very bad blood between those two, or maybe Hickey just bears the brunt of Lee’s bad attitude. You suppose you can see why, Hickey never seems like the most professional of men whereas Charles is the epitome of order and discipline.

Thomas ignores the glare and leans back in his chair, lounging on the furniture like some kind of swaggering house cat. Grabbing a free chair, he noisily scrapes it across the floor towards the table beside him. He looks at you and pats seat invitingly.

‘Oi, love, why dontcha come join us, eh?’

‘Absolutely not, she is a woman.’ Lee pipes up from across the table.

You raise your eyebrows challengingly at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

He merely rolls his eyes with a look that plainly says run along and be a good girl. ‘We are having a fun evening, drinking and gambling. Can you actually play poker, Miss?’

You sink down into the chair beside Thomas smiling sweetly at Charles. ‘Of course I can, probably better than you.’

Well there was a challenge. You may not actually be able to play better than him you realise, but you know the general rules and the bluff was more than enough just to see the expression on the man’s usually smug face. Johnson gives you a small private wink. Sitting directly across from Haytham you can’t quite seem his expression as he dips his head coughing into his hand, face concealed by his hat. Does he ever take that damned thing off?

Thomas suddenly slides a glass in your direction before you can protest, pouring a large measure of alcohol. Taking it with thanks, you try and sip it delicately, however the fierce alcohol still burns all the way down the back of your throat. You try and hide your grimace but the Grandmaster smirks slightly in your direction from under his eyebrows. How they hell can they stand this stuff? Hickey knocks back his glass as if it is full of nothing but water.

‘Well if no one else minds me joining your little game.’ Well why shouldn’t you. Alcohol and cards may be fun and the boys aren’t terrible company. Ok, perhaps Lee might be terrible company, but usually Haytham mellows him out.

There is a collective murmur of ‘no’ from the group, Charles slightly more reluctant, as William picks up the discarded cards and begins shuffling. Oh dear, there may be a flaw in the evening you had planned as you suddenly spot coins littering the table. They are playing for money and you didn’t bring any.

‘Ah, I’m afraid I will have to sit out gentlemen. I did not bring money with me, at least not the stakes you are playing.’

Lee gives a triumphant look but Hickey seems reluctant to let you go now that he has you joined the group. Johnson waves a hand elegantly back and forth.

‘I can give you something to play with lass, and you can pay me back later it does not matter.’

He grabs a handful of coins from his own pile to push in your direction.

‘Now wait ah minute’ Hickey interrupts. ‘It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of us to turn the lady away but there’s no point if it’s not ‘er money. Nuthin’ to lose. Why don’t we play for some’fin else?’

Haytham has a dubious expression on his face; you agree with him, you wouldn’t trust Thomas either.

‘Such as?’ The Grandmaster drawls in that wonderfully crisp accent of his. Really that voice should be illegal.

Thomas gives an evil grin. ‘Dare poker.’

Charles nearly choked on his drink. ‘Absolutely not!’

‘I feel it would be unwise.’ Haytham seems hesitant and even Johnson doesn’t look too particularly comfortable.

You shrug, trying for boldness. You are not about to look weak in front of these men. You are not some little girl. ‘It makes no difference to me, and I believe I will be the one winning anyway. So if you afraid to lose boys…’

All four men give you a wounded look. You have just challenged them and it looks like you have bruised some very large male egos. They won’t want to appear too timid now.

‘O’ come on.’ Thomas chides, giving you a conspiratorial elbow as he grabs the cards from William’s hand. ‘Played it all the time, it ‘ill be fun.’

You have no doubt that he has played before and given his rather ‘too please with himself’ grin, you are not sure you want to know exactly what kind of dares you may be subjected to. You resolve that you are simply going to have to beat the Templars at every game. How hard could that be?

Thomas deals the first round; you glare at your cards willing them to be better. Charles chuckles to the left of you as you take your time. ‘Need some help my dear?’ He is looking far too conceited, you try to smirk back. ‘No, thank you.’

Despite best efforts you lose. Oh well, you think, so much for constantly winning. Hopefully the challenge shouldn’t be too painful.

Who one that round? A quick check of the cards shows the Grandmaster has the winning hand. The group sits awaiting his dare. After a moment to think he pours four extremely large measures from the whiskey bottle and slides them across the table.

Resignedly you pick up the glass swirling the amber liquid around the rim. Even the smell is enough to water your eyes.

‘Down in one gentlemen, oh, _and_ lady.’ He purrs as he smirks in your direction.

Knocking back the alcohol as quickly as you can possibly manage does nothing to help; it still sets fire to your mouth and burns your throat. Haytham is grinning smugly. You notice even the others are struggling to take so much of the potent brew, except Hickey. Usually in some form of drunken state his shot disappears without so much as a twitch. Charles and William however, shudder as they finish the glass.

You fight not to gag and bring up the alcohol but if Haytham’s highly amused reaction is any indication, your face in doing so must have been a picture.

 

 

The next few rounds passed quickly as they become more at ease with the thought of suggesting various dares. Dares ranging from impressions of one another that the recipient certainly feels upset by, to a rather hilarious pig impression by Thomas. Charles made him get down on all fours and sit out a round pretending to be said animal. Even though he was doing it out of spite and Thomas took it in ill humour, it _was_ desperately funny. Even the normally slightly surly Grandmaster had to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.

It would seem the idea of the dares has been taken fully to heart by the Templars and they boys are now happily playing a game of one-upmanship on each other. Some old scores appear to be being settled with the more ludicrous of requests and you are just glad that they do not seem to be picking on you much, for now.

William was now, somehow, wearing the Grandmasters hat. When did that happen? Alcohol and laughter and humour are making time go by quickly and you are losing track. But this has been much more fun than you originally thought. Charles also has Haytham’s trademark long coat around his shoulders. Sitting in deep red waistcoat and billowing shirt sleeves the Grandmaster is cutting quite a dashingly relaxed figure. You don’t think you have ever seen the man quite so…naked, and you being idly day dreaming what that lovely dark, shoulder length hair would look like loosened from its ribbon.

Lee, at one point, almost suggested removing further items of clothing until he glanced in your direction and must have felt it may have been a little improper. Although so far you are missing your shoes and the only reason the pointed heels were not on any of the boys feet is because they were simply too small.

Another dare in your direction had been set by Johnson after his winning round; you had to go downstairs to the street and bring back the handkerchief of the first man you came across. Lee had you declaring your love to a scandalised passing priest. Hickey was bolder and told you to lean out the window and flash the next passing person. There was a murmur of protest form the others at Hickey’s appallingly suggestive dare but whether it was the free flowing alcohol or the fun you were all having or maybe just a ‘what the hell’ you did it, disappearing quickly back inside in fits of giggles before the passing redcoat even knew what happened.

Thomas looked impressed with your daring and the fact you actually went through with it, the other Templars seem rather shocked. The Grandmaster appears to be becoming alarmed at how rowdy this game is suddenly fast becoming.

 

 

 

Trying your best in the next round you still manage to lose. Poker certainly isn’t your game. Hickey wins and it is his turn again to challenge the remaining players. No doubt noting the increasing discomfort of the Grandmaster, he decided to play with the poor man just a little. Thomas turns to you and you just know that the dare is coming your way again.

‘Give old 'Afam a kiss.’

‘Thomas.’ Haytham’s voice is a sharp warning. He points an accusing finger across the table. ‘You are getting out of hand.’

Sliding out you chair, you are not about to back down from a challenge. It is only a kiss and not as if he is an unattractive man. As you reach the Grandmaster still sitting in his chair, you lean in towards him and give him a quick peck on the cheek. His skin is soft under your lips, the barest amount of stubble scratching across your chin. He feels warm under you and the deep musky smell of his body and spicy sent of his aftershave fills your nostrils. When on earth did he ever smell that good? The alcohol or perhaps suddenly lust filled overpoweringly male smell of him had you almost swaying.  Haytham swallows hard, sitting perfectly still and careful not to turn in your direction or it would cause more skin contact or even his lips to brush yours.

As you straighten up and pull back from Haytham, you are aware of the other Templars intense gaze on the back of your neck. Turing and heading unsteadily back to your chair Thomas suddenly shouts out, ‘I didn’t tell you, where I wanted you to kiss him now did I?’ and laughed a maniacal cackle.

Haytham and you blush at his implication as you hurriedly head back to your seat, trying not to make eye contact with Grandmaster.

‘ _Thomas_.’ Haytham’s voice is low and dangerous. You nearly shiver in your seat, finding it incredibly erotic. How can he do that with just his voice? Infusing one word with the pain of death if he doesn’t start behaving but also instantly lodged somewhere low in your groin.

 

 

 

 

Success at last! You have actually won a round. Glancing around the four men you try and furiously think of a dare. This was harder than you first thought. Something to certainly pay back Hickey but also for the rest of them picking on you. A naughty thought crosses your mind. Could you do it? Would they agree?

‘Shirts off gentlemen!’ You try and sound nonchalant but the glee in being able to order them around must be evident. Now, at least, you are going to have something very pretty to look at while playing.

Thomas grins widely, it is clear the two of you have the same dirty mind of where this game could go. Unhesitatingly he pulls off his jacket, grabs two handfuls of white undershirt and tugs it over his head in one fluid motion. Left in nothing but his breeches and boots, his upper body is pale and lean, almost bordering on too thin, with the outline of ribs just visible. Hickey’s torso is littered will all manner of tattoos across his shoulders and down across his pectoral muscles, and you begin tracing each one hungrily with your eyes.

You just about manage to drag your gaze from such an interesting sight. Staring? Certainly not! Had you really been staring? Well maybe just a little you admit to yourself. William is hesitantly removing the clothing on the upper half of his body, he is silently laughing. He at least, like Thomas, is seeing the humour in this bit of fun.

Haytham and Charles however, have their arms crossed tightly over their chests.

‘Problem?’ You inquire innocently.

‘This is getting a little too far out of hand don’t you think?’ Lee doesn’t sound delighted at the prospect of stripping off. The only way to get to him, you decide, is a challenge.

‘Well I am afraid you boys forfeit then don’t you. Did we come up with a forfeit?’

Turning to Thomas he is grinning but shakes his head. ‘I’m sure we can come up with some ‘fin.’

You goad a reaction from Charles. ‘What is wrong Mr Lee, afraid you don’t measure up?’

The arrogant Templar gives you a death glare just as William’s undershirt is off with a flourish. Lee’s scowl is somewhat ruined by the unexpectedly delicious sight of the very muscled tanned torso of Mr Johnson, who is sitting and looking rather abashed and not sure if he should cover himself up with his hands or not. He finally settles for resting them in his lap after folding them across his chest only made the muscles in his chest and arms bulge even more and a small excited noise to escape your throat.

Now that was something to stare at. My, my, who would have thought he looked so good under his clothing? Just at this moment you could happily wish to be alone with William and see if he would let you run your fingernails or even lips down that washboard stomach. It would appear the rest of them didn’t quite expect that either and they side-eye Johnson’s impressive physique.

Haytham and Charles eventually cave to the inevitable, more likely not wanting to forfeit, and start to strip. They remove their waistcoats and shirts tantalisingly slowly, a small patch of skin and chest and hair revealed at a time.

You can’t help but stare, finding their slow strip tease incredibly erotic. You lick your dry lips and cross your legs, squirming in your seat, hoping that they are not paying attention to your desperately needy actions as their clothes come off. Although not a patch on the delightful Mr Johnson, Haytham is well defined for his age, broad shoulders, flat pale stomach and a small smattering of slightly greying hair covering his chest.

Charles is certainly the most out of shape. He is not fat but there is softness to his body, not present in the Grandmaster or Johnson. Thick dark hair covers his chest and a tantalising strip widens from his naval and disappears into his trousers. Unexpectedly, you find yourself suddenly eager to explore and follow that trail down further. Lee meets your intense gaze and looks away first, a small blush creeping across his cheeks. Haytham merely smirks at you from across the table, cool Grey eyes unwavering.

Eventually all four men are naked from the waist up and it’s the best idea you have had if you do say so yourself. Nothing like a delicious bit of eye candy, although given the fact you are distractingly thinking of a range of sexual scenarios for each of them, concentrating on your cards now is going to be a difficult. You shift uncomfortably in your chair and Hickey gives you a small knowing leer.

Right, back to the game. You idly wonder if you can make the boys your own little harem for the night and whether you can justifiably get more clothing off them under the pretext of ‘dare’. It is either the alcohol or the attractiveness of the company that is making you incredibly horny and arousal is now sitting heavy and tightly between your legs.

 

 

The next round plays out quickly. Hickey is triumphant despite probably consuming more alcohol that the entire group, you are surprised he still knows the rules. As winner, his next request is a kiss for himself this time; apparently your previous with Haytham was unsatisfactory entertainment.

Leaning towards him your lips brush delicately over his, getting the strong taste of tobacco and whiskey but also an underlying male taste that is Thomas himself. He applies more pressure to the kiss, tongue insistently caressing your bottom lip before demanding entrance.  You can only make a small startled noise of protest, the squeak muffled in his mouth as Thomas’s tongue forces itself between your teeth, caressing along your own tongue and claiming every inch of you.

Breathing becomes an issue as he presses deeper. Aiming to pull away, you feel that he has had more than enough of a kiss but before you know it, his arms are wrapped around you and he slides you easily off of your chair and into his lap.

The kiss never breaks as your body rides the warmth of his. Pressed tightly against Hickey’s naked chest you caress the smooth skin whilst practically bucking and moaning in his lap. Hands circle your waist, kneading the flesh and creating an interesting feeling in your groin. He is very good at this.

Eventually you both break apart, gasping for air and breathing heavily. Thomas leans his forehead against yours, lips parted and pupils dilated, his warm breath tickles along your skin. You glance down at your hands splayed on his pale chest. Without realising, your fingernails have dug small half-moon grooves during your passionate embrace. Thomas gives you a small cheeky smile, apparently not bothered. His eyes are heavy as you make to shift of his lap and back to your own chair but your centre brushed against the front of him and you feel a distinct hardness underneath you.

The Templar only grins wider at your shocked expression when you realise what it is. It would seem he was thoroughly enjoying himself with you squirming in his lap and the tenting in his breeches is remarkably impressive.

As you are shakily deposited back in your chair, there is a general open mouthed look from the others at the table. You smirk in Haytham’s direction, too bad Mr, you had your chance but a small uneasy fluttering in your stomach has you worried. Hickey’s reaction had suddenly made this game painfully real. Perhaps this was getting far too out of hand and you should stop before you find yourself in deeper than you expected.

The next round is dealt and Thomas mutters a dirty joke that has the majority of the group laughing. Lee refills your glass and just like that the tension has left and you are feeling much better about the whole situation. You will admit you are having a lot of fun and it would be a shame to end this so quickly.

 

 

Another winning round to you! Hurrah! Perhaps you are getting good at this, or maybe, a small voice at the back of your head tells you, the alcohol is making them worse. Now what to do to them? They need to suffer a little for picking on you.

‘Thomas…’ You smile sweetly at him. ‘Since you are so keen to have everyone’s lips on one another, I think you and Charles should show there is no hard feelings from earlier.’

Both men remain seated, stony faced. If looks could kill both of them would have done it in an instant.

‘Come on boys, kiss and make up.’ You giggle, unable to control the laughter at the two men glaring across the room at one another. A quick check across the table and Haytham looks as if he is having trouble not bursting into rancorous laughter while William is wisely staring into the bottom of his tankard of ale. His beard twitches in attempts to hide his amusement.

After a long suffering sigh Hickey eventually gets to his feet moving in Lee’s direction. Charles however just sits with his arms folded, looking as if he will shoot the first person that touches him.

Thomas is just about to lean towards him, clearly aiming for a quick peck on the cheek when you casually throw in, ‘a proper kiss Thomas, like the one you gave me.

‘Now wait ah minute girl!’ He rounds on you but you playfully stick your tongue out. That will teach him.

Knowing the game won’t progress or they will forfeit, resignedly Hickey sighs again, pouncing before Charles has a chance to protest. Finding himself wrapped in Hickey’s embrace, both hands planted on his cheeks and dragging his lips into a crushingly forced kiss, Lee nearly topples from his chair taking Hickey with him.

Red in the face, Charles eventually manages to push a grinning Thomas off him. Despite the initial protest, you think that Thomas has just found another way to irritate the man; it clearly didn’t bother him half as much as it bothered Charles.

The rest of the room erupts in sniggers as Thomas saunters back to his seat wiggling his arse playfully.

‘Oh Charles lighten up, it is only in fun.’ The Grandmaster manages between chuckles however it only earns him an ice cold glare in response.

 

Back to the game. The next round of cards is dealt and you hope Mr Lee doesn’t win, you feel you may pay dearly for that little bit of fun.

Unfortunately, and just your luck, he does indeed win this hand. You fight not to groan and you await his challenge. Still hurt from his earlier embarrassment and probably the fact Haytham was laughing at him, Charles retaliates by attempting to embarrass both you and the Grandmaster.

Haytham is promptly told to spend the next round massaging your feet.

After quick glance to you to check you are willing, Haytham rolls his eyes at the childishness before disappearing under the table in one graceful movement.

William begins dealing and the first touch of the Grandmaster comes as a shock despite knowing he is down there. You try not to giggle as his fingers caress your bare feet having been told to remove your shoes earlier in the evening.

After the initial ticklishness you find this is actually rather pleasant.

He starts gently, cupping one foot softly in his palm, fingers beginning to thoroughly massage the ball of your foot. The action causes you to splay your toes and wiggle them at the intensely satisfying feeling. You try and concentrate desperately on your cards but the Grandmasters hands are on the move, sliding along the sole of your foot to your ankle. Cupping it, he rotates the joint gently then moves on.  Fingers begin walking up from your ankle up your calf, the slightest caress from his fingertips sends rather unexpectedly pleasant vibrations up between your legs.

Shifting superciliously in your seat you try and wiggle your toes telling him silently to head back in that direction. Haytham pays no attention and you find yourself biting you lip to keep from moaning as those wonderful hands reach your knee.

Ow. A sharp thud echoes in the room. You have just banged your knee under the table. Your foot jerked as something unexpectedly wet touched the top of your instep. The men at the table look at you startled so you try and smile reassuringly. ‘Sorry, ticklish.’

Clearing your throat and trying desperately not to blush, you quickly peak under the table and can just make out the devilish gleam in Haytham’s eye and he dips back down to his task.

Picking up your cards, you don’t get any chance to concentrate on them. The firm paper is soon crushed in your hand as your eyes flutter closed at the pleasure. Good god, is that his _mouth_?

So much for foot massage in the traditional sense, Haytham seems to be placing gentle kisses on each toe before sliding lips up your foot. He reaches your ankle then continues going. One hand darts under the table trying to silently shoo him away as his wonderfully caressing mouth inches higher between your legs. You whimper and don’t care that everyone is looking at you.

Cards flutter to the table as you lean your head back in the chair, savouring the moment. Eyes closed, biting your lip. Haytham sucks a pinkie into his mouth, tongue wrapping around it while his hands slide up your thighs doing exactly the same to you as his kisses were. The sensations he is producing in your lower body you could almost believe that your feet were directly connected to your clit, it is pulsing with each kiss and suck all on its own.

You are rudely interrupted by Thomas who ducks his head under the table, leering at the man under there.

‘Oi, ‘Afam, you are only supposed to be massaging her feet.’

Haytham gives you a look that could mean anything as you stare down the line of your prone body at him. But god that was hot, you think, enjoying the view of him half naked and on his knees before you.

The Grandmaster eventually eases out from under the table and gets gracefully to his feet, much more so than you would have. He disappointingly heading back to his seat and you try and push away the now distinct throb of arousal at your centre. Any more of that and you will be demanding sex to put you out your misery.

 

Oh dear, the winner is Hickey. To be honest you can’t even remember what your cards were having thrown the deck to the table. You have a sneaking suspicion Thomas is cheating, or perhaps you should really have been paying more attention on the cards rather than the Grandmaster practically fellating your feet. Then you may have won. If you get the chance you would certainly be asking the Grandmaster to be doing that again.

The victor is eyeing you with unadulterated glee and you can only hope that Hickey isn’t looking for a foot massage. However his gaze shifts to poor William next to him. A small evil smile crosses his lips.

‘Bill.’ Hickey all but purrs. ‘Choo haven’t ‘ad a kiss from our guest yet. All the ladies always say wot a talented tongue you ‘ave, why don’t choo give her a demonstration.’

Johnson blushes furiously, head facing his lap while Thomas only cackles gleefully. He seems to have made it his personal mission to make everyone uncomfortable. Haytham is voicing loud protest at the man’s perverseness when a small voice pipes up. ‘I will do it.’

Everyone glances at William, utterly shocked.

‘Really?!’ The Grandmaster’s voice is disbelieving.

William looks in your direction, giving you a toe curlingly cheeky grin. ‘I am game, lass if you are.’

Well what to do? This game is certainly getting far out of hand, but well, it had been so much fun and the possibility of any sort of intimate contact with either of these sexy men…could you pass that up? Absolutely not. All earlier misgivings have vanished to be replaced with a pooling wetness between your legs. You have a few needs that really need to be satisfied, and soon.

Hesitantly, you slide out of your chair and head around Thomas in Williams direction. The bearded Templar pats the table top as he edges his own chair further back to give you room. Easing up onto the table, facing William and backside perched on the edge, you are unsure what to do now. A pink blush still spreads across Williams cheeks and the dark brown beard only makes it all the more noticeable. He has kind eyes, you think, and he gives you a small shy smile that tries to be reassuring. You are not sure if it is you or himself he is trying to reassure. Now that you are here and with everyone else looking on at the pair of you, this feels rather odd.

Hands rest lightly on your clothed thighs for a moment but begin to slide down towards your knees. It is a brief caress but you can still feel it keenly even through your clothing. Your skin tingles from his touch. William pushes your knees gently apart and you instinctively you close them. He tries to part them again but to no avail as you resist. ‘Relax’ he says softly. ‘I will stop if you ask.’

You allow him to part your legs wide, gratefully of the full but light fabric skirt. Slowly and sensuously, William folds the hem of your skirt from your ankle up to your knees. Warm hands begin rubbing patterns up your calves; the back of your knee and eventually your inner thigh and you can’t help but whimper as small shocks travel up your skin straight between your legs with each caress. You squirm excitedly, anticipating these dexterous fingers in more intimate areas.

Leaning forward in his chair Williams coarse beard scratches at your skin as his mouth begins following the route that his hands made along your inner thigh. Your skirt inches up even further, ever so slowly, along with this movement.

Licking your lips desperately, you feel your inner muscles clench in anticipation. Oh god, he is really going to do it your brain is screaming at you, stomach somersaulting.  He wasn’t kidding or putting on a show, you half expected him to pull back, the joke being on the other men.

He cannot do this here you think, he can’t really pleasure you on the table in front of everyone.

William’s wet lips are almost at the junction of your legs. You fight not to writhe and whimper as soft open mouthed kisses tickle your inner thigh. You squeal loudly as his tongue licks you through the fabric of your panties, your fingertips gripping the edge of the table tightly.

Suddenly he pulls away and your eyes flutter open, wondering what is wrong. Johnson is looking behind you to the others. Under his wonderfully masterful touch you had forgotten for a moment that they were three other Templars in the room.

‘Do you not have a round to play gentlemen?’ William’s voice is teasing. You wonder what they make of watching another man pleasure you on a table top in the middle of a card game.  There is a flurry of noisy activity behind you as the others, who had clearly been staring, try and play the next round.

Johnson’s tongue is back between your legs, the dampness from his mouth wetting your underwear as he licks enticingly over you. You shift in position, eager for more contact and you can feel him smile against you as his large hands continue to trail delicate teasing patterns across your thighs.

William rolls light blue eyes up from his position between your legs and your gaze meets his. His look is intense and full of heat but watching for any signs of unwillingness. He smiles at you, checking for reassurance that you are still ok with what he is doing and you can’t help run your fingers through his dark hair. Only vaguely aware that you must be messing up the neat ponytail he carefully tied it back in, it is incredibly soft compared with his beard. You wonder what all that soft hair would feel like running over intimate areas of your body.

Large, warm hands slip into your underwear to cup your backside, pulling you closer to the table edge. William soon diverse you of any underwear. Helping him wiggle you out of your panties, you straitening your legs in the air as he slides them up and off in one movement.

You hear a soft ‘fuck’ behind you. Was that Charles? As your sodden underwear hit the table top.

With no barrier of clothing Johnson’s mouth is now on you, licking, probing, lapping at your folds with a confident ease. You realise someone knows what they are doing and he is _wonderful_. The pad of his tongue forcefully massages your swollen clit, tracing the outline of the hood, sending little shocks of pleasure through you.

Wiggling against him, trying to grind yourself against his face as his dexterous tongue glides over your most intimate area. Fingers ball in his soft silky hair as you cry out, unable to sit upright any longer; sprawling back across the table when he picks up the pace with his movements. Your moans sound deafingly loud in your ears and when William takes your swollen clit into his mouth and sucks you are pretty sure you screamed.

Your eyes flutter open as a fingertip probes at the entrance to your body. Even staring upside down you can see that the others are not playing the game. Well how can they when you are currently unabashedly splayed across the table, legs dangling over the edge while William Johnson sends you ever closer to climax with nothing but his mouth. All three men have a shocked expression on their face as they watch the show with a distinctly hungry look.

Thomas leans over in his chair and quickly steals a kiss form your lips. Pulling away he whispers softly in your ear, ‘we will all be doing that later, love.’ The thought of it, along with William’s tongue simultaneously dipping inside of you, pushes you over the edge, back arching off the table, orgasm rippling from the pit of your stomach all the way to your toes.

You lie there on the table sweating and exhausted, panting heavily and coming down from your high. A few quick after licks to your sensitive bud sends small aftershocks through your body and leaves you twitching.  

William finally appears from between your legs, beard soaked with your fluids. He licks his lips and smiles before crawling up your body and giving you a deep kiss. You can taste yourself on him, the deep musky taste of your own orgasm.

He helps you rearrange your clothing as most of your muscles refuse to work in post orgasmic bliss, but your underwear remains discarded. Sliding off the table edge, your weak legs barely support you and you nearly fall, but William's strong arms keep you upright. Steadying yourself you make your way back to your own chair.

Hickey is grinning widely while Charles and Haytham look utterly astounded. It would appear that you have found your discarded panties; Charles is currently playing with them idly in one hand. Both men glance away quickly as you meet their eye. Suddenly realising what he has been doing, Lee quickly tucks the fabric out of sight.

You can’t quite form words or coherent thoughts, head still happily hazy from Johnson’s wonderfully delicious mouth. How the hell do you top that? You still sound a little out of breath as you ask, ‘So, who won that round?’

The Grandmaster smiles hesitatingly at you, apparently he is the winner. You wonder what is coming next and sincerely hope it is going to be as good, or should that be hot as the last round. By the look on his face, Haytham seems to be having an internal battle, whether to put end to this now or continue on and see what else happens.

Grey eyes sweep over every inch of you; you can see he is calculating behind that serious, uptight mask. You watch him glance at his men before smirking, a mischievous look in his eyes that you usually only see on Thomas.

His voice is remarkably smooth and even but it has dropped a few octaves. ‘You seem tired my dear, I want you to sit the next round out.’

Oh. You are slightly disappointed, after William’s little show you were expecting the dares to get progressively more interesting from here on out. Do you even need dares you wonder? Surely they realise by now you would be more than happy to fuck them.

‘But-‘ His voice is like delicious chocolate velvet evil as he adds, ‘-you spend it here.’ Haytham pats his lap invitingly.

Now _that_ is more like it you think, and get unevenly to your feet again.

Approaching the Grandmaster he still looks deliciously lascivious with no shirt. A well-toned body, not quite as muscled as William but certainly nothing to sniff at, a few scars litter his chest and shoulders, disappearing down his back. The pink marks on all the perfection make you want to run your tongue down them all you roll the scar tissue in your mouth.

Standing next to him, Haytham gives you a heated look and you notice the significant bulge in his tight white britches. Someone was certainly enjoying the show with Mr Johnson.

Patting his lap once again you gently sit on it watching the table as the cards are dealt. It is quite comfy here and you have a good view of everyone else.

Haytham picks up his hand and gives it a quick glance over your shoulder, discarding a few cards that you personally thought he should certainly keep.

You soon realise why he has let his cards go, he needs his hands free. While everyone is busy, Haytham’s fingers begin inching up your skirt. Wiggling on his lap at the caress, his erection grinds into your backside. The Grandmaster grunts at the contact and you can feel him take a deep steadying breath but that hand continues its delicate trail up your calf, past your knee and along your inner thigh.

Warm lips slide across you neck, peppering your shoulder with gentle butterfly kisses. A slow build-up of tension begins forming deep within you that you thought had been sated by Johnson’s talented mouth.  As Haytham’s lips reach your ear they trace the lobe lightly, leaving you giggling as it tickles. The other men at the table turn in your direction at your laughter so you try and look innocent and keep quiet.

Haytham shuffles his cards with one hand, the other still resting high on your bare thigh, fingers drumming lightly. He is such a tease! You shift on his lap again, trying to rub your thighs together and ease the needy discomfort between your legs.

Lips trail tantalisingly across your earlobe while you gasp as the Grandmaster’s fingers slide that fraction of an inch higher, just brushing your pussy with the lightest of strokes.

Arching your back you try and push him deeper by thrusting your lips, Haytham chuckled deeply against your neck. His fingers are soon coated in your arousal, still present from Johnson’s talented mouth. Haytham lets out a small sigh.

‘God, you are soaking. ‘He whispers in your ear as you nervously glance around the table, none of the others can hear, they are too busy concentrating, probably trying to win the next round.

‘Was he that good?’ Haytham’s voice is low, a practical purr in your ear that tightens things low in your body all on its own. That voice is terrific. He wouldn’t even need to touch you, you think. He could just talk you into coming again.

'Tell me, did you like Bill’s mouth there, did he please you?’

You can only nod, lost in his warm breath blowing against your ear sending shivers down your spine. Fingers slide into your wet body with ease and two digits begin exploring your inner walls. You whimper and ease back, leaning against Haytham’s broad chest for support, knees instinctively open as his hand rides higher.

His husky voice sends its own pleasure through your body, murmuring all the things he and the other Templars would do to you as his fingers work continuously. His whispered dirty talk tightens your lower body as you eagerly imagine all the things he is describing.

‘I am going to make you come again. Your little display has made us all feel rather uncomfortable. Look at poor Charles.’ You glance at Mr Lee sitting to the side of Haytham, sweat litters his forehead and a quick look under the table and there is a distinct bulge in his trousers too.

‘He wants you. He probably wants to take you right across this table like everyone else here.’ Haytham punctuates his words by scrapping his thumb over your already swollen and sensitive clit causing you to moan and squirm.

‘You have sat there and smiled and teased and batted your eyelashes knowing you were driving everyone wild.’ His hot breath and low murmuring voice combined with dexterous fingers were enough to push you to another earth shattering orgasm.

‘I am going to make you come and beg and writhe on my lap knowing my fingers turn you on and in the next round-‘

He pauses, fingers dancing expertly over your flesh; he takes time to nuzzle your neck just behind the ear. His eyes dart up, yours follow, everyone at the table is watching. What the Grandmaster is doing is clearly now apparent. He pulls your legs wider letting them see, you blush under their scrutiny. You never though being watched during sex would turn you on but this game is certainly doing just that.

‘-the next round I want to watch you use that talented little mouth to make Mr Lee over there beg for you.’

His thumb pushed almost painfully against your clit as he strokes more forcefully, punctuating each last word.

‘You. Will. Do. That. Won’t. You?’

Bucking on his lap as your second orgasm over takes you, your thighs clamp shut around his hand. Haytham holds you tight as your body tries to sink to the floor, crying out. ‘Yes, God yes, I will.’

 

 

You are unsure how long you may have been out of it as you come down from your blissful high, leaning against the Grandmasters naked chest, legs still shamelessly spread. He has been nuzzling your neck as your head rested on his bare shoulder. Sliding his fingers from you they are dripping wet with your own arousal, he raises them to you and you suck the digits into your mouth enjoying his hitch of breath as your roll his fingers sensuously around your mouth, tasting your own come and a mixture of his scent.

A small ‘fucking hell’ from across the table lets you know Hickey is watching fervently.

You haven’t even been paying attention but it seems like the boys have finally found out who won the round. You are beginning to wonder why the hell you are still bothering with cards as you pant and sweat and practically drip on Haytham's knee; this game is way beyond anything you originally set out to do.

You are about to leave the rather comfy lap when the Grandmaster gives you an evil grin. It would seem he is the winner again, despite being somewhat…distracted by you. You look at him expectantly, awaiting his dare because you can pretty much guarantee where all these dares are going now.

His grin only widens as he purrs. ‘I already told you.’

Oh. Now you remember. You glance in Charles Lee’s direction. The man seems oblivious; apparently he was concentrating too hard on what Haytham was doing to you and not what he was saying.

You lick your lips eyeing the bulge in his trousers, it would seem the game has turned into you being the Templars personal sex slave. Honestly, after the amount of pleasure you have just had that is totally fine with you, your pussy is still throbbing from pleasure and you are wet practically all the way down to your knees. You just hope at some point they will put you out your misery and just fuck you.

Haytham’s legs open wide, allowing you to slide bonelessly to the floor; after all, you are not entirely sure your legs will hold you. You are about to crawl off in Charles’s direction when the Grandmaster leans forward, a conspiratorial whisper in your ear.

‘Charles hates not being in control, weakness is not an option. Teach him a lesson. Make him whimper and beg.’

Haytham gives you a small smirk and a wink and you set of, trying your very best to act as seductively as possible as your crawl the short space to Lee’s chair.

Poor Charles’s has a panicked look in his eye as if he is a very small mouse and you are a very large cat. He jerks away from your touch when you finally reach him and place your hands on his clothed knees. Undaunted. You push them slightly apart to make space for you to kneel.

Charles licks his lips nervously and swallows hard. There is just a touch of hysteria in his voice as he says. ‘What are you doing?’

You give him a small naughty smile while he looks imploringly at Haytham, but the Grandmaster just smirks.

Carefully you loosen the front of his trousers allowing you to slip a hand into the opening, the excitement making you fumble slightly. You open them just enough to flash tanned, toned skin and wisps of dark pubic hair. Charles lets out a strangled gasp as your warm hand encloses around his already solid erection and gives a firm squeeze. Hips instinctively bucking up off the chair towards you as you withdraw it from the confines of his clothing.

Wrapping your fist around him you pump Lee’s cock a few times, allowing his foreskin to slide back and forth, gently lubricating him with the slight drop of oozing pre cum from the tip. Glancing up his body, he is breathing heavily, eyes fluttering closed just at the smallest touch.

Reaching out with the tip of your tongue you make a small tentative lick across the head and Lee gives a strangled noise in the back of his throat, deep green eyes focusing on you. You dart out your tongue to make a small kitten-like lick across his cock again; it twitches under you so you do it a third time until he bites his lip in concentration and exhales hard. Trailing small licks all across his shaft, you eventually make one long slow lick from balls to tip, swirling the head as you delight in the smooth velvety texture of him.

Eager to making him come for you, you start at the base, running your tongue along the underside before sucking the head fully and tightly into your mouth. Charles’s hips almost rise fully of his chair trying to impale himself further down your throat.

Somewhere behind you it seems the card game has resumed, well at least the boys are trying to, but with Charles’s seat pushed out from the table, each of them probably has an excellent view of your oral pleasure of him.

Releasing him from your warm, wet mouth your victim groans in frustration, one of his hands rests itself on the back of your head, offering gentle encouragement for you attentions. You give him a smirk waiting for him to say it.

‘Please!’ His voice is barely a cracked whisper, he is so desperate for more and you love it. A small smile spreads across your features as you teasingly nuzzle his groin. Squirming in his seat, small moans whispering from his lips but you continue to tease him, drawling idle patterns with your fingertips delicately over exposed flesh and his thighs.

His voice is full of emotion, he has tried several times to discreetly slide himself back between your lips but you have avoided. ‘Please, more, I want you to…do it again, put it in your mouth…’ he trails off, swallowing hard.

Glancing in Haytham's direction; he is looking over his hand of cards with a small smirk. You raise an eyebrow silently asking, well has Mr Lee begged enough?

Haytham shrugs noncommittally and you take that as your decision. You would like to hear Charles beg some more since usually you do not get much politeness from the haughty man, but he does look rather tortured so you take pity.

Finally sucking as much of him into your mouth as you can manage, you eagerly lap at him, swirling the head as you pull backwards before plunging down as deeply as you can again.

Raising one hand from resting on his thigh, you wrap it around the base of his thick cock, timing the jerks with the movements of your head, ensuring his entire length was stimulated. Your other free hand begins to caress his balls, tight and hard from your stimulation you can tell Charles won’t last long as his knuckles are turning white from his death grip on the arms of his chair. As a final pleasure, or punishment, you begin to hum around him, sending ripples of gratification through the swollen fresh with the vibrations in your mouth.

A few strokes and you feel him still under you, his thighs and balls quivering, they only give you the briefest of warnings as hot sticky come floods your mouth hitting the back go your throat. You try not to gag and swallow it down until Charles lies sprawled and spent in his chair.

He makes small helpless noises that you thoroughly enjoy as you lick him clean and tuck him back into his britches. You enjoy watching the stunned expression on his face, his eyes are unfocused and he appears to try and say something but no sound issues from his mouth. Charles runs a shaky hand across his face, smoothing the thick black moustache down. He places a thumb under your chin, raising your face you him as he leans down to give you a deep, probing kiss.

 

 

Still kneeling you eventually pop a head above the table level and find everyone’s eyes fixated on you.

William licks his lips, his voice sounding unsteady. ‘Um, well, whose round is it?’

‘Thomas won that round.’ The Grandmaster says and suddenly throws down his pile of cars on the table top.

‘Do we really need these anymore?’ He murmurs exasperatedly. ‘There really is not much point. Go ahead Thomas, fuck her.’

Yes! Oh god yes. No more teasing, you are finally getting proper sex. Fingers and tongues had been pleasant enough but having Lee’s warm solid length buried in your mouth has created and ache to have a similarly firm cock buried between your legs. Hopefully it will be more than Thomas, wait a second, you think. There are four of them. They all wouldn’t want to…your head spins. Oh this is going to be good!

Hickey approaches you, still half undressed and looking edible, he has been pleasuring himself at some point as a small triangle of skin is visible and his cock is already hard and jutting out through the slightly opened fabric. He helps you off the floor to your feet and with large hands on your waist, easing you back against the solid table.

Hands wander your still clothed body as he leans in and gives you a surprisingly tender kiss. You expected with his level of drunkenness for it to be sloppy or unpractised but his lips caress yours, tongue gentle dancing with your own. The warm line of his body grinds against the front of yours, while your hands slide over smooth pale tattooed flesh, his biceps flex automatically under your hands.

He pulls away only millimetres, lips ticking your earlobe.

‘You want it, love?’

You nod enthusiastically. Thomas gives a small cheeky smile before glancing behind you at the other men looking distinctly hungry in their seats.

‘Think carefully before choo say aye, we are not nice men, girl, and this doesn’t end wi’ me.’

God, stop talking. There is nothing else to say. Turned on, still wet from their earlier actions, how could you say no to the possibility of the promise, the tension singing through their bodies that they are going to fuck you ridiculously thoroughly.

‘Yes, I want you. Do it.’

Happy in confirmation, hickey gives a brief winning smile before pushing you further back until you are sitting on the edge of the table. He soon diverse you of any remaining clothing, the cool air a shock to you as you shiver nipples hardening and skin crawling with tiny goosebumps. A small attack of self-consciousness as you find yourself naked before all four of them, keenly aware of the others scrutiny. Hickey pays no attention, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin with reverent lips.

His lips meet yours and he kisses gently, warming you with the heat from his body and the actions of his mouth. Using hands on your waist he turns your positions, easing himself further back on the table to a lying position, legs just dangling off the edge. He sits you on the outside of his thighs, straddling his waist.

Balancing your hands on his shoulders, fingertips dig into the flesh there as Hickey nibbles along your collar and down to your breasts, finally suckling your nipples and sending little lines of pleasure down your body. 

Trousers are pushed down to mid-thigh and he starts off by slowly sliding his cock between your legs, coating himself in the wetness there, rubbing against your most sensitive parts but never quite entering.

As Thomas slides past your opening again you can help a small frustrated noise escaping, body eager for him to close the last distance and impale himself inside you as far as he possibly can. Looking at him smirking, you know he is just teasing mercilessly.

Finally, out of all patience himself, he grabs your hips roughly and brings your body down onto him in one sharp fluid movement until you are sitting on his thighs, balls pushed tight against your backside.

Oh yes, your brain screams at you, yes this is wonderful. You delight in being gloriously full as his hard cock rubs against your inner walls, sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine to the base of your neck. Hickey rolls your hips in his hands causing every inch inside of you to rub against him as his cock rotates within you.

He bucks upwards fiercely, establishing a pounding rhythm that causes you to lose your balance. Falling forwards onto his chest, arms wrap around you tightly, pinning you to his body Hickey slows then stops his movement. You make an impatient noise and wriggle, wanting him to move again, wanting more delicious friction between your legs, wondering why the hell he had stopped.

‘Remember an’ relax, pet.’ Thomas murmurs against your mouth just as you feel something brush behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, puzzled, you find William Johnson standing at the table edge. He loosens the buttons on his trousers and a thick hard cock juts out proudly when he pushes the fabric down.

Pulling you forward sharply for a kiss, you realised Thomas is distracting you and trying to muffle screams as William pushes forwards unhesitatingly into you.

Tensing, you cry out into Thomas’s mouth. It is too much, both of them inside, filling you almost painfully, pussy stretching impossibly wide to fit both. Instinctively you try and move away but Hickey holds you upper body in his arms while Johnson has a firm grip on your hips; you find you can’t even move an inch.

Whimpering in over stimulation, both men still for a few moments, allowing you to grow accustom to this new sensation. Thomas kisses you deeply, and William murmurs soothing words, stroking your hips with his soft hands.

After a while Johnson grabs your hips and pulls you backwards, driving himself a little further into your body. Breaking away from Hickeys mouth with a gasp, you sink teeth into his shoulder as he too shoves himself deeper into your protesting body. They start off slow, sliding back and forth mere inches at a time but it is not long before the two Templars establish a rhythm, thudding into you with a glorious brutality.

Breasts crushed against Hickey’s chest and two sets of hands caressing you, you can’t move. The feeling of being overwhelmed and trapped is easing as both move to their own rhythm and your body relaxes and opens. It started as an unusual, uncomfortable sensation but it is giving way to an immense feeling of pleasure and being completely filled.

A heavy weight is soon building low in your stomach again, pushing you ever closer to another earth shattering orgasm. Johnson jams his fingers between you and Hickey’s body, dancing over your clit already stimulates from brushing back and forth across Hickey’s pubic bone. You come apart on them in moments, whimpering and moaning as waves of pleasure ripple from between your legs. You hear the boys hiss as you tighten around them, shaking and quivering between their warm muscled bodies.

There is a soft grunt behind you and William makes a long lick up your spine before shifting and sliding his cock from you with a wet pop. Evidently he is finished, your body partly thankful for not being impossibly stretched but a small sigh of disappointment still escapes at the loss of his body from yours. A few bucks later and Thomas too stops moving under you, a small groan escaping his lips.

Collapsing onto Hickey’s chest, both of you panting heavily from your excretions, you feel an unpleasant trickle escape your body onto your thighs. Thomas gives you a sleepy kiss as he eventually slides out from underneath you.

You feel exhausted but sated and more than ecstatically happy. That was wonderful. Amazing. You probably don’t have the words to adequately describe it. You also don’t think that you can even stand just yet, so Hickey lays you gently on your back across the table until you are left staring upside-down at the Grandmaster, his cool grey eyes boring into you.

Haytham leans forward in his chair and kisses you passionately on the lips. It is a possessive, bruising kiss despite the odd angle. His hands slide gently over your shoulders and collar bone before cupping your breasts weighting the heavier flesh in his hands and rolling the pad of his thumbs across your nipples.

You give a small moan partly in desire and partly in pain. After Thomas and William you aren’t so sure you could do that again, body protesting its rough treatment. You had almost forgotten Haytham and Charles were there also.

The Grandmaster nods to Charles who gets up from his seat. Haytham distracts you with some tantalisingly hot kisses as the other man moves towards the edge of the table. With a renewed burst of energy and deciding to play, you manage to find the strength to sit up, helping Lee shirk out his boots and breeches. He is already rock solid but you palm his cock anyway, rubbing all the velvety hardness as he leans into give you a deep kiss. Calloused fingers caress your breasts, your waist, and your hips before settling there. Taking a firm hold of your flesh, you find yourself suddenly flipped face down on the table, backside in the air and feet barely tiptoeing on the floor. Your stomach flutters at the unexpected show of strength and dominance from Charles. You can just see Haytham as you roll your eyes up, when you feel the weight of Lee press hard against you, pushing your stomach and breasts further into the table.

You prepare for Charles to swiftly enter you, to take what he wanted from your body, but instead his hands roam your shoulders and back, soothing and relaxing. His moustache tickles slightly as he trails delicate kisses across your skin all the way down to your arse. He sinks his teeth gently into the flesh of one cheek and it has you squirming.

Charles gives you a small playful smack on the backside and you yelp, bucking against the table. You can’t believe the had the gall to do that but you want him to do that again so stick your arse out a little further towards him, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk. He raises an eyebrow, eyes twinkling in humour as he complies with another hearty smack, and another and another, until you are gasping and moaning, heat rising off of your skin.

Feet on the floor, Lee uses his knee to push your legs further apart throwing you further off balance. His hands press against the inside of your thighs, making sure you are spread wide for him and again you brace again for his entry, but it doesn’t come. Instead his lips trail your ear.

‘Don’t worry my dear.’ Charles purrs, with a slightly sinister edge to his voice. ‘Let’s just say I am more of an ass man. I won’t be abusing that little cunt of yours anymore tonight. Although I can’t say the same about Haytham.’

Hang on a minute. Did he mean?

Oh. He did.

Charles kneels behind you, warm breath caressing your wet pussy but his mouth riders higher between your cheeks. An unfamiliar sensation as his tongue laps gently the tightly puckered skin of your backside. This is unexpected, but the sensation he is drawling with just his tongue rimming you is unbelievable.

A small ‘oh god’ escapes your lips as Haytham watches amused at your wriggling on the table top. Your back arches as Charles nimble tongue slides across your skin, working the tight ring of muscle and making you suddenly want something larger. His mouth retreats lower, exploring your perineum but a wet fingers presses against the hole he has just caressed. He works over it, slowly and methodically, loosening the muscles.

Two long thick fingers dip into your wet pussy, gathering up a mixture of your arousal and that left by Hickey and Johnson. Charles presses on cum covered finger at your arse and pushes forwards. Gasping and moaning on the table top, he is forced to stand and put a hand firmly on your lower back to stop you moving. A second digit follows the first, scissoring and pumping in and out of your tight hole.

Fingers retreat as Charles pushed firmly behind you, resting his weight on top of you to prevent any more movement. He coats his cock with the wetness from your body as he positions himself against the opening of your arse. You try to mumble ‘no, wait’ unsure if he has done enough to prepare you but the tip of his cock slides past your opening which spasms around him automatically.

A heady mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through the lower half of your body as Charles assaults an unfamiliar part, tight and unaccustomed to such large entries. You hiss in discomfort but inch backwards, keen to push him past the sensitive opening. Slowly, he sinks in a deeply as he can go, resting with his hips flush against your arse. The coarse black hair across his abdomen and stomach tickles the sensitive skin on your cheeks and the weight of his balls rests firmly against your clit.

Lee’s hips flex as he draws himself out of you, agonisingly slowly, before plunging deeply back in. You can’t do anything but grip the table edge as he begins his movement, picking up the tempo as your body finally loosens to him. Haytham watches Charles fuck you, thrusting firmly in an out, body jerking as he pushes you hard against the table.

Whimpering as you are stretched further, Charles lifts you from your prone position on the table and pulls you backwards with him as he sits in a chair. Still impaled and sitting on his lap, he bounces you gently. He seems bigger from this angle, deeper and sharper and each thrust from him drives incoherent noises from low in your throat.

From this position you see that Thomas and William have cleaned themselves off and in-between dressing, are excitedly watching the others turn.

Charles’s lifts your legs off the floor, hooking your knees over his forearms and parting them wide. It puts you off-balance, fully cradled in his embrace but affords a good view to the Grandmaster, who is still sitting in his chair but eagerly watching the slip of the other man’s cock in and out of you. Haytham has taken to stroking himself, tightly fisting his erection, drawing it out in long slow, teasing pulls. You can see the precum glisten on the tip and can’t help lick your lips wondering what he tastes like.

‘Sir.’ Charles puffs from behind you, voice strained. It is funny to hear Lee still using an honorific considering what you are all currently doing.

‘Pleasure the girl and she can come again before we are done.’ Charles nuzzles your neck, moustache ticking and teeth biting down on soft skin as Haytham slowly rises from his chair and walks towards you. His breeches still undone and a definite ‘swing’ in his step.

He reaches where you and Charles are joined, the other man creating a firm pressure deep in your backside. Without preamble Haytham kisses you, mouth trailing fiery kisses from your lips down your jaw and neck. His trousers wiggle down further as he slides home. Despite its most recent abuse, your pussy tightens around him, he still feels remarkably different and remarkably wonderful inside you.

Haytham and Charles move almost in tandem, you have barely enough brain function left to wonder if they have done this before, eliciting the most amount of pleasure form your already tired body. The feeling is indescribable as they both work inside of you separated by only a thin barrier of flesh, you had never thought to experience this amount of pleasure and the moans from your mouth sound distant and hollow in your ears as if your voice is not your own.

Hands are everywhere on your body until you are not sure who’s is who’s. Lee is sucking on the back of your neck sending shivers down your spine. Now dressed; Johnson had approached you, he takes a moment to kiss you, lips feeding against yours, his hands wandering your breasts as the other men continue their intense love making.

Fingers brush your clit, they could be Hickeys, he seems unwilling to be left out of the fun as he kneels next to you, taking a good look at Haytham and Charles plundering your body.

It is too much, far too much sensation, your body is crying out for release but also a finality, to be left alone in peace.

Clinging to Haytham, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, Charles’s hands steadying your hips you are surrounded by solid walls of muscle and flesh. They are so warm and so alive and so incredibly good, but you are exhausted, barely conscious and head hazy in pleasure, you can’t even move to help, simply hold on and let them move for you.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave and you are unsure who supplied it; every muscle tightens and quivers almost painfully. You literally see stars as your vision blurs, a sense of weightlessness overcomes you. You feel like you are falling. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear male voices, but you are so incredibly tires and the wooden floor seems to come closer but tender hands are pressed all over, cradling you.

 

 

 

Opening your eyes groggily, you first realise that you are lying on something soft. Crisp white sheets meet your vision. Lying on your stomach in a large bed, you find that you are wrapped in sheets but otherwise nude.

You try to get up.

Moving is a challenge, everything aches, every muscle feels tight and abused as if you have had a really good workout after a long period of absence. Your legs don’t seem to want to work properly and it is a few tries before you roll over and finally manage to sit up. You spot Thomas Hickey lounging in a high backed chair near the foot of the bed. He smiles mischievously at you, voice teasing.

‘G’d you’re ‘wake at last girl. I fought we’d done ye in.’

Your hair is damp and clean, and there is not a trace of bodily fluid anywhere on you. Clearly someone has washed you and tucked you up in bed, you didn’t realise Thomas could be so considerate, or it may have been one of the others. Just thinking of the other three men makes you flush slightly, stomach fluttering.

‘You must be too much for me Thomas.’ You tease him, which only make his smile wider.

The bedroom door opens and Haytham Kenway walks in followed by Lee and Johnson.

‘Ah, awake, excellent.’

The Grandmaster doesn’t seem to know what to say after that and the silence is a tad awkward. Suddenly tired and full of images of naked bodies, broad chests and varying sizes of impressive manhoods, you sink back against the bed and soft pillows.

William approaches the bed, stroking back your hair from your face almost tenderly, ‘You aright lass?’

You nod at him. Tired but happy you find you are indeed ok, if a little embarrassed, but that was certainly one hell of a ride. You tell them as much and everyone but Hickey looks a little red faced, shuffling from foot to foot.

The bar will be returning to business as usual in a few hours and the Templars have work to do but you have the room for as long as you want it and the Grandmaster has promised to return shortly to see you home.

Sarcastically complimenting you on our fantastic um, card skills, the Templars shuffle out the room, and surprisingly each giving you a small kiss as they leave.

Before the door closes the Grandmaster turns with the group.

‘Oh and by the way my dear. Friday night is always poker night, feel free to join us anytime.’

Hickey gives you a wink and William a slightly sheepish wave as they close the door.

Snuggling back down in the covers, relishing the small aches after really good sex and still covered in delicious marks from your lovemaking, you think it wouldn’t be so bad a way to spend future Friday nights.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fun of last Poker evening you are keen to take the Templars up on their offer of a rematch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely kudos. It has been a while since I have played with my Templar boys and couldn't resist adding more. As usual the chapter ran on too long so please enjoy chapter two with Hickey and Johnson. Haytham and Charles shall make their appearance in chapter three shortly and I am still wondering if I should add the delicious Shay to the mix.

 

The humid Boston air is becoming insufferably sticky, especially given the vast number of people bustling past you on the crowded street. It is not a particularly bright or sunny day and the threat of thunderclouds hang on the horizon.

You are just contemplating whether to head home when out of the corner of your eye you spot a familiar gait strolling down the cobbled street. Tall, broad shoulders are unmistakable, as is the hat and long navy coloured coat.

On second thoughts, Grandmaster Haytham Kenway doesn’t stroll, strut with purpose possibly, but not stroll. There is definitely an air of authority around the man and you almost feel sorry for the pedestrians scuttling out of his way.

You pause, gazing down the street for an escape route and wondering what to do. On the one hand, if you carry on walking you are likely to bump into him. Part of you would be entirely happy with this. With a bit of luck you might get a soft hello kiss from the handsome Templar. Unfortunately another significantly larger part of you hopes that he doesn’t spot you and continues walking right by. Then you won’t have to look at those pretty grey eyes or listen to that wonderfully drolling accent, all the while picture his lips caressing your skin and wandering your unclothed body.

The thought of what Haytham and the other Templars did to you nearly a week ago still sends a wave of unchecked arousal thought your body. Every muscle south of your belly button instantly squirms and tightens at the mere suggestion.

You can’t do it, you can’t face him. The thought of them is too overwhelming and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in public.

Unfortunately you don’t seem to be getting much of a choice in the matter. Haytham Kenway is purposely heading in your direction, gently nudging groups of people out the way. He has obviously spotted you and is too close now for you to make a convincing exit and duck down a side street.

There is a flash of cool grey eyes and the Grandmaster gives you a small quirk of lips in smile. Amazing how the man always manages to make it look more like an arrogant smirk.  Gently cupping your elbow, his touch tingles even through layers of clothing and you find yourself being gently eased away from the crowd of people towards the quieter edge of street near the store fronts.

‘Hello, my dear.’ His voice is a rich, refined drawl. Soft, yet unmistakably clear and confident.

He inclines his head in your direction a little stiffly. Now that Haytham has lead you away from the busy street he drops his hand from your arm. His touch still lingers though, the warmth, as if he had pressed his hand against your skin and not fabric.

With hands now clasped formally behind his back, his posture is rigid.  Was it just you or does the usually reserved and stoic Grandmaster seem ever so slightly nervous? You suppose he does have quite a regal bearing, unfortunately it tends to make him look as if he is looking down his nose at you.

You have a brief recollection of that very pronounced nose brushing very intimate areas of your body and you need to close your eyes and take a deep breath as your stomach somersaults.

A warm hand is suddenly back on your arm and you open your eyes, startled at the contact, and the pleasant feel of his touch.

Haytham is looking at you with mild concern.

‘Are you alright?’

His voice is a practical purr that you can feel caress your entire body and you can only nod in response quickly, not wanting him to press further as to what exactly your problem is. Being a sex crazed idiot is far to embarrassing to admit at the moment, plus you don’t trust your mouth to form a coherent sentence.

He continues softly but you are barely listening to his words. What strikes you is that Master Kenway is being terribly polite, restrained even. He is providing general boring chit chat as if you were nothing more than a passing acquaintance in the street and he didn’t spend an evening fucking you with three other men.

You marvel at how unaffected he seems whilst you are busy undressing him with your mind, thighs squeezed tight together and biting your lip in an effort to stop yourself pouncing on him in the middle of the street and begging him to fuck you.

‘Will we be seeing you this Friday?’

Haytham pauses, brow furrowed slightly.

You hadn’t been paying attention, more interested in watching the strong line of his jaw work as he talked, the press of his lips and the small dart of his tongue wetting them as he spoke. He had obviously been standing in silence awaiting an answer from you.

The slightest blush of red flashes briefly over his cheeks, gaze hesitant as a moment of uncertainly must have entered his mind as to whether his advances were warranted.

‘Um, sorry?’ You mumble while trying to conceal your embarrassment and swallow visibly. You gaze into his eyes and he gives you a small smile and slowly licks that very full bottom lip. Whatever he saw in your face must have reassured him that your silence was not borne of unwillingness. He knows exactly why you weren’t paying attention. You hope to God the small longing groan to run your own tongue across his mouth was not audible.

The Grandmaster doesn’t get a chance to ask again as he is unceremoniously elbowed out the way by a second figure coming towards you at speed.

There is no such formal, restrained hello from Thomas Hickey. His body fills your vision as he pulls you close to him, arms sliding around your waist and large palms cupping your backside. Thomas squeezes your arse and uses it for leverage to pull you even closer into his embrace.

‘’Allo love.’  His smirk is playful and eyes flash with mischief.

Lips are suddenly on your own, stealing a surprised squeak in response. Thomas tastes of tobacco and whiskey as his tongue demandingly snakes into your mouth. The front of his very firm body presses tightly against you, your breasts crushed against his chest. There is a considerable strength in his arms. Hickey may be a smaller build than the Grandmaster, skinny bordering on lanky, but he hides it well.

Something hard presses urgently against your hip and you gasp, pulling back from his kiss in shock. Thomas reluctantly releases you from his tight embrace with a cheeky grin and wink.

‘Don’t worry darling, just my gun.’

Your gaze wanders down to where he was fitted so comfortably against the front of you and true enough, the holster of his gun is pressing firmly. You swallow a shaky breath feeling heat rise in your cheeks.

You just catch Haytham's glare in Hickey’s direction before the Grandmaster quickly glances all around you at passers-by, a few of whom are side-eyeing the three of you at the edge of the street.

‘For heaven’s sake Thomas, show some self-control in public.’

He looks more exasperated than truly annoyed. No one seems to be paying the three of you any out of the ordinary attention and quickly scuttle around your group and continue with their day.

‘Oh stop being so pompous ‘Afam.’

Thomas’s hand slides around your waist, tucking you against the side of his body. Haytham only arches one elegant eyebrow, resigned to Hickey’s outlandish behaviour.

Despite being practically accosted by Hickey in the street, you can’t help but grin back at his mischievous smile and good nature. Playful is Thomas’s natural state. Telling him to behave is like trying to tell water not to be wet.

Master Kenway clearly decided ignoring his subordinate was the best way to deal with his teasing and therefore afford him no more of this attention. Turning back to you, he attempts to get the conversation back on track.

‘As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,’ He gives a pointed look in Thomas’s direction and you giggle at Hickey's mock-affronted expression.

‘If you were perhaps looking for us this Friday night then we have moved the venue. Poker night will be held at Charles Lee’s manor just outside of Boston. Do you know where it is?’

‘Changed?’ You enquire feeling slightly elated that Haytham and the other Templars were looking for your company again but also slightly wary. If you join them then you will not have the safe crowed company of Boston but will be in the relative middle of nowhere solitude of Charles Lee’s home.

‘What the Grandmaster means is-‘ Thomas leans forwards slightly, lips brushing your earlobe and warm breath shivering along your bare neck, ‘-is that is it business as usual at the Green Dragon and he can’t do despicably disgusting and depraved things to you with a room full of bar patrons.’

Haytham makes a disgusted noise low in his throat. ‘Thomas!’ He warns before giving you an apologetic look.

Was it you imagination of was the Grandmaster blushing? Adorable is not quite the word that springs to mind when you think of the very serious man but he is looking rather cute with his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink and his jaw tense.

Hickey is silently chuckling but he continues drawing distracting circles across your waist and hip with the tips of his fingers, it’s a little hard to focus on the pair of them or any sort of conversation that requires brain power at the moment.

After the excitement of the last Poker night you had been fantasising over a dark head with bright red ribbon between your legs, trailing kisses down your body when suddenly the very same person’s seductive voice startles you.

‘Can we…expect your company this weekend?’ Haytham asks again, but something about his tone and the look in those grey eyes has you almost panting in want. This is ridiculous, he hasn’t even done anything but suddenly the air between the three of you is so charged with sexual tension you find yourself breathing heavier, pressing harder against Hickey’s side and simultaneously inching towards Haytham’s tall frame.

You pause, mulling it over for all of two seconds. Are you really going to pass up hot, intense sex with a group of attractive and highly sexually skilful men? Absolutely not!

You give the Grandmaster a warm smile hoping that your face is not betraying your current unsavoury thoughts since he is determined to be so damned polite about the whole thing. ‘Of course.’

Both Thomas and Haytham grin widely, the Grandmasters rather stoic public profile slipping until he quickly schools his face into the proper mask again.

‘Then I look forward to seeing you on Friday.’ He comments offhandedly.

You almost laugh at Haytham’s ability to make it sound as if he were inviting you to nothing but a boring social function and not a practical orgy. He leans forwards and delicately brushes his lips against your right cheek in a chaste kiss. He gives Thomas a nod farewell and continues off down the busy Boston Street and eventually disappears completely from view.

Hickey watches him go mumbling ‘pompous arse’ under his breath that leaves you chuckling. He gives you a sly sideways grin; you can tell he is only kidding.

The hand that had been caressing your hip for most of the conversation suddenly dips lower, cupping your backside slightly.

‘Thomas!’ You reproach him, ‘Behave in public.’

He smirks at you. ‘This is me behaving.’

Given his reputation and other behaviour you have witnessed you can quite believe that.

Strong fingers suddenly lace with your own as the Templar takes your hand and you find yourself half dragged across the street in his wake. He slips down an empty side ally and around a corner to a seemingly deserted piece of waste ground behind tall wooden and brick houses. The area is full of trees, unkempt grass and empty crates.

You briefly wonder just how the hell Thomas knows the back streets and alleys of Boston so well and to what purpose before he tugs you around a corner out of sight of the main street and pushes your back against wooden fencing. Before you even have a chance to get your bearings, Hickey insinuates himself in your arms, pressing the full length of his body against yours so that you are trapped between him and the fence.

Thomas’s lips are suddenly on yours, demanding and insistent, taking your breath away in the frenzy of feeding at your mouth.

The musky tobacco smell of him assaults your senses as his hands slide to your waist, gently caressing. You can feel the distinct press of erection against your stomach, it’s definitely not his gun this time, and you just about manage to drag your lips away from his for brief moments, both of you gasping for air.

Dark chocolate coloured eyes are hooded and heavy and his gaze wanders down your body. He licks his lips slowly, pulling you closer for another kiss.

‘Thomas stop!’ You pant between continued kisses. ‘We can’t do this here, in _public_.’

He pays no notice, mouth sending little jolts of tingling pleasure as he works across your jaw line and neck. He is making it very hard to think. You have been turned on since you first spotted the imposing well-dressed figure of Haytham Kenway in the street and you are willing to bet Thomas will find you already wet and willing for him whatever protest.

‘I can’t wait until Friday, love.’ His voice is low and husky in your ear.

‘But someone might see us.’

‘You weren’t complaining of that last time.’ He murmurs, hot breath ghosting along the sensitive flesh of your neck. He darts out his tongue leaving a warm wet trail before sucking on a particularly sensitive sweet spot on your neck that almost buckles your knees and forces you to wrap your arms around his shoulders for support.

‘But that was different.’ Even as you make excuses as to why not, you can’t help but grind against the front of him, relishing the hard member pressing between your legs. Hickey forces his thigh between your legs, pushing them wider and throwing you off balance. Moaning in pleasure and need, you grind against him, working yourself into a more frustratingly aroused state.

Thomas leaves his place dragging his teeth along your collar bone and gives you an amused look as you are shamelessly buck along his thigh.

‘So fuckin’ you in front of three men isn’t public but a secluded garden with no one around is?’

You blush unable to answer. It had surprised you just how much fun sex with the Grandmaster, Lee, Johnson and Hickey had been and how aroused you became when the others watched you in various acts with each other.

You glance around the area, it _is_ fairly secluded. And dark. And empty. No one would likely bother you, but still…still, you can hear the heavy footsteps of passers-by on the street just a few meters away, going about their daily business.

‘You don’t fancy a quickie with me love?’

Thomas raises a challenging eyebrow in your direction and gives you one of his devilish smirks that makes him hard to resist. His hands are already sliding through folds of fabric. A large warm palm cups your groin and even through the fabric of your underwear his touch sends a small thrill of pleasure through you. A warm weight is being to pool low in your stomach and internal muscles flutter in anticipation. A quickie would be so good…

Grabbing Hickeys coat you drag his lips back towards yours once more, letting his tongue swiftly slide into your mouth to continue its sensuous caress.

He grins as he pulls back. ‘Is that a yes?’

You whimper acknowledgement as he wiggles his fingers that are currently now rooting around in your underwear. God you need him right now and don’t care if anyone in the street happens by while you are both at it.

The pair of you frantically begin pushing aside layers of clothing, eager to get them out the way.

‘Quickly, please Thomas!’ You can’t help but pant as he helps loosen clothing only enough to gain access to the important parts needed.

With surprising strength given his frame, Thomas forces you higher against the solid whitewashed fence. Firm hands dig under your thighs for support as he positions himself at your pulsing entrance and his already straining cock slides into you in one fluid movement.

You cry out against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one leg curled around his waist, the other straining on tiptoes, barely touching the ground. Your gasps are lost in his mouth as his lips seek yours, groaning against you in pleasure.

Your body tightens almost painfully around Thomas’s intrusion, already aroused from earlier you find yourself approaching orgasm surprisingly quickly. He is so warm, and solid and thick and this is just what you needed, just what you had been day dreaming over for the last week.

Perhaps it’s the thrill of getting caught, hearing the firm pound of people just behind you. Horse hooves click on cobbled stone and you try to keep your whimpers under your breath, biting down on Thomas’s jacket covered shoulder when his mouth is not smothering your own.

His lips continue their assault on your jawline, neck, cleavage, any inch of skin he can reach. Fingertips bruise against your thighs, squeezing tightly and pulling your body towards his with every thrust of hips.

Hickey’s breath is hot and heavy in your ear; he lets out deep grunts of appreciation mumbling encouragement and praise. His hips thrust roughly, firmly, no sense of rhythm but with an urgency as if he is trying to push the pair of you through the fencing behind you

A few minutes of desperate, uncoordinated bucking together and the scrape of rough cotton trousers against your clit and it is enough to leave you crying out in satisfaction whimpering your orgasm into a coat covered shoulder.

Exhausted and dazed you can only cling to Hickey, who it appears, isn’t far behind you.

A loan gasp in your ear and the sudden stillness of his body lets you know he had his pleasure.

Breathing hard, Thomas takes a few moments to compose himself. His warm body keeps you pinned in place against the fence, and just as well because you’re not entirely sure your legs would hold you up.

Eventually you squirm, legs cramping from such an uncomfortable prolonged position and Thomas hisses at your movement, his softening cock slipping from you. You shiver as cooler air rushes around your wet and sensitive body and at the distinct trickle of bodily fluids down your thigh.

Peppering your skin with open mouthed kisses, Thomas nuzzles your neck. Long fingers gently rubbing back and forth along the bare skin of your thighs and it strikes you as a surprisingly intimate gesture as he pets and strokes you, cuddling against your body and seemlingly reluctant to let go of the embrace.

Finally the Templar eases you down firmly onto your feet allowing you to release the death grip you had on the back of his jacket. He gives you a soft kiss, the barest brush of lips on your own.

Clothing is rearranged quickly and easily, although he spreading wetness between your legs is a little uncomfortable.

Hickey gives you his trademark salacious grin but the effect is a ruined somewhat by his still dilated pupils, flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

You shiver in the cool breeze, sweat exerted body chilling even in the summer air. Hickey slides his arm around you, pulling you against his warmer body and tucking you under his jacket as much as possible.

With a final tender brush of lips against your temple, Thomas gently escorts you back out into the crowded streets, people none the wiser as to what the pair of you were up to but you can’t help cast furtive glances around you, imagining they can all see evidence of your very public lovemaking in the dishevelled clothing, messy hair and the unmistakable trickle of cum that seems intent on spreading across your thighs. You sigh deeply, you will need to head home and clean up, these Templars do enjoy leaving you messy.

Thomas waves goodbye near your home with a mischievous wink and playful squeeze of your backside, back to his usual mocking self after the uncharacteristic tender side you have just witnessed. He promises to look forward to seeing you with the rest of the boys on Friday.

 

 

 

 

As the last few days wear on and the approaching date with the Templars looms near you find yourself excited and nervous all in one.

Charles Lee’s manor is a distance but still fairly easy to get to, so on late Friday afternoon you decide to make your way there by carriage and arrange a driver to take you.

The nervous fluttering in the pit of your stomach gets worse with every passing mile. Alone in the back of the dark, covered carriage, you only have your own imagination for company and it is currently running wild. Why on earth did you agree to this? You were a stupid foolish girl. You will be alone, with four men who only really have one intention by this point, far from anyone that could help. Really. Anything could happen to you.

You fidget nervously in the back seat as the coach bobs down the dry dusty dirt roads. Last week had been…wonderful, exciting, thrilling? A warm flush spreads across your cheeks every time you think about it and instinctively squeeze your thighs together at the suddenly vivid image of each of the rather delicious men, naked. You can picture them exactly right down to their straining cocks.

It suddenly becomes far too warm. You can’t stand it. You need to get out.

Dismissing the driver you decide to walk. It is only a few more miles anyway and the evening is warm and still bright. A nice gentle stroll to shake off those pesky butterflies is possibly what you need. But even as you walk you find yourself contemplating turning around and going home. You can’t do this. What kind of person agrees to that, your conscious chides you? In Boston with free flowing alcohol it seemed like a good idea at the time but a house in the middle of nowhere was asking for trouble.

Palms sweating and feet hesitating with every step you are contemplating finding the nearest inn for a very large drink and then getting another carriage to take you home.  

On the other hand…think of all the fun you had. A small dark part at the back of your brain is putting up a fight at losing its entertainment for tonight. It’s not as if they forced you to do anything you didn’t want to and the sex really had been incredible. Do you really want to pass up that opportunity again? They are offering themselves on a plate and you get your pick. Can you say no when you can still feel their hands and lips pressed against you? Maybe that is the problem, you might not say no once you are alone with them, and then who knows what your lust addled brain will agree to.

A strong hand on your shoulder rudely interrupts your daydreaming. Startled, a small surprised squeal almost leaves your throat and you round on the intruder.

A pair of baby blue eyes blink owlishly back at you. Another carriage has stopped by the roadside and you hadn’t even realised William Johnson was practically hanging out it and trying to get your attention. He looks concerned, no doubt at your shocked expression.

‘Are you alright lass?’

The surprise of him sneaking up on you has left your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

‘I-I’m fine.’ You mumble breathlessly trying to reassure him with a small smile. It wasn’t his fault you weren’t paying attention, or were having second thoughts.

‘You just…startled me, I didn’t hear you.’

William doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t push it.

You take a moment to glance over his appearance, he is looking very well dressed, pressed tailoring and dark beard looks freshly trimmed.

‘I was heading to Charles’s home.’ He seems hesitant to add more. ‘Is…that where you were heading?’

You glance inside the very dark looking interior of the coach before gazing up and down the bustling roadway, wondering just what to say. You are not sure whether you want to let William know you were taking them up on their offer or were now in fact contemplating running away.

‘Yes.’ You eventually are forced to reply after several moments awkward silence.

Johnson raises an eyebrow. ‘And you were walking all the way there, alone?’

Shrugging you mention that you had been taking a carriage but wanted some fresh air.

He gestures into the back of his own. ‘Would you like to continue to walk? I can give you a ride now if you have had enough…fresh air.’

William is by far the most solicitous and kindest Templar you have met. Taking his offered hand it is dry but pleasantly warm under your touch, you allow him to help you into the back.

The soft leather seats sigh under you as you settle and Johnson closes the carriage door, the outside world suddenly seems shut away at a distinct distance. From your seat you almost cannot see out of the window, which likely means those on the street can’t get a glimpse of you and the handsome Templar.

William sits beside you and you are suddenly acutely aware of the intimacy of the small confined space, the gentle press of his thigh against your own and the overpowering smell of his aftershave.

‘Are you sure you are alright?’ Johnson asks gently after tapping on the roof and the coach sets off at a slow steady pace on the road.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ You try and sound nonchalant, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the frantic fluttering in your stomach.

‘You do not look fine.’

You open your mouth to reply but quickly close it again, unsure how to word the doubts that were troubling you.

William gives you a kind look. ‘Would you like me to take you home?’

You shake your head determinedly. You are not sure you want to miss this opportunity. Hickey had given you a taste a few days ago and you wanted more, Charles sneering arrogance, Haytham’s deep refined drawl as he mouthed obscenities in your ear, their hands on you, their mouths…

‘Everyone will be waiting for me.’

‘And they can continue to wait.’ Johnson says gently. ‘If you wish to go home, I will have the driver turn around and head back into Boston.’

You give him a small smile at his understanding but you really don’t want to.

He inclines his head. ‘Very well, I’m sure we will be there soon.’

There is the smallest of movements, a slight jerking motion, but William pulls away. Out of the corner of your eye you catch him hesitating, and the same move again. You notice he made the same action earlier when helping you into the back of the carriage; it’s as if he was moving in to kiss you but thought better of it.

After several failed attempts, Johnson leans back against the seat clearing his throat, a small hesitant smile plays across his lips and is almost lost under the fuller beard.

You turn towards him and give him a puzzled look, eyes never leaving his. William blushes, a wonderful pale pink colour spreading across his cheeks.

‘Sorry.’ He mumbles. ‘I was going to kiss you hello but thought better of it. I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome. Or too forward, perhaps.’

You smirk, sliding your arm through his, thinking of Hickey’s rather… _enthusiastic_ greeting only a few days ago.

‘Of course you can kiss me hello.’

The Templars smile is dazzling in his pleasure at being allowed such a small action, especially given the things he has done to you before.

Leaning towards you in the seat, his thigh is suddenly pressed much more firmly along your own.  Lips brush the corner of your mouth delicately and a soft tanned cheek caresses yours. The thick dark beard tickles along your skin, it is surprisingly soft, you don’t remember it feeling as soft when it brushed your inner thigh as his mouth inched upwards last time. Your clit practically quivers at the memory.

Pausing for just a moment, lips press gently for few seconds at the corner of your mouth. William inhales deeply before pulling away.

Such a chaste kiss doesn’t seem like enough to you, not when you know first-hand how talented that mouth is and not when you saw how much pleasure it gave him. You want to give him more.

He smells nice, fresh, as if he has just scrubbed himself clean. There is an underlying muskiness, an almost meaty taste in the back of your throat that your body reacts to and recognises as definitely male. It travels straight between your legs where you find yourself becoming wet with arousal. You could have him, any time, any way you want, just as eager as Hickey. There would be no hesitations from him, no denying your needs of wants.

Leaning in closer again, you angle towards him looking for another kiss. Johnson seems surprised but eager, and allows his lips to fully cover your own properly this time.

The kiss is still delicate, dry, restrained. You can feel the tension in his body, holding back, almost on the brink of pulling away. You don’t want that. You want to see and feel his need, you want him unreservedly and unapologetically.

Pressing more firmly, you crush your lips hard against his, breasts pressed tight against his side. Parting your lips slightly, you run the tip of your own tongue across Johnson’s politely closed ones.

At your probing, William takes the hint and responds in kind, parting those soft lips and sliding his tongue into your mouth. A slow rhythmic massage begins to draw noises from your throat. When his tongue sweeps, you can feel it all the way down to tour toes. When he sucks, your nipples harden. A gentle bite has you clamouring against him, trying to meld your body closer.

A strong hand sneaks across your shoulders and behind your back, caressing your waist and down to your hips. You make low noises of pleasure and encouragement, hoping for more. It’s not enough, he tastes wonderful, his touch is stirring your arousal but you need more than just a slight caress of his hands and tongue.

Never breaking the kiss you inch up onto your knees on the firm carriage seat to get better leverage. Hands encircling your thighs, Johnson effortlessly helps, pulling you closer and spilling your body into his lap as he almost tries to eat your form the mouth down.

Pinned against his body for a few moments you enjoy the feel of him, the soft fabric of his clothing and hard muscle underneath. His lap is warm and comfy and you are reminded how much bigger he is than you. It’s one thing to know this man is taller and likely much stronger than you but another thing completely to be wrapped and trapped in his embrace and cradled in his lap no more effortlessly than a child.

It is a struggle to wriggle free without ending the searingly hot kiss, but you move just enough to swing one leg over his other knee and straddle his lap.

The move places you higher than the man sitting below you and allows you to grind the front of your body more fully along his. This is much better, closer contact, the ability to buck and writhe in his lap.

From this angle you have more control of the kiss but everything is still…lacking.

Frustrated, you need more… _something_. More touch, more skin on skin contact, more of _him_ inside of _you_.

Deep moans escape Johnson’s mouth, his broad chest rumbling under your hands. There is a definite hardening under you as you wriggle on his lap and that only spurs you to rock against him wantonly. You can feel the gentle twitch in excitement of his cock even through layers of fabric and God; you want him, buried inside of you to the hilt and crying your name between these intense kisses.

Desperately needing air you pull back, gasping. Williams’s eyes had been closed but they flutter open at your retreat, swimming pools of blue. He too is panting heavily, lips pink tinged from kissing and he licks them several times as if sucking the taste of you off of them.

He is flushed, hair mussed and fixing you with such a sexual look that you make up your mind you want him naked, right now.

You mentally kick yourself for earlier doubts. How on earth could you possibly think of giving this up and going home?

Sliding a hand down between your pressed bodies, you rub the Templars hardened cock through thick brown woollen trousers. Johnson gasps, his mouth a small perfect ‘o’ at your touch but instinctively pushes harder against you. You grin, tracing the impressive outline with your fingertips.

He groans part in excitement and part in frustration. ‘We can’t do this here.’ Even as he says it his face betrays him and his hips buck upwards, following the motion of your hand.

Giggling, you are reminded of your own hesitation with Hickey just a few days ago that lead to some very public outdoor sex that just happened to be incredibly hot too.

As if to prove a point, the carriage jolts significantly across an uneven piece of ground.

Glancing out of the small square coach window, you watch the countryside pass by rapidly. You are enclosed, no one can really see inside and you are continually moving…even the driver sitting outside and upfront wouldn’t know with all the jostling over uneven roads, if the pair of you could keep quiet enough.

‘No one will see us.’ You whisper against William’s lips and lean down for another kiss, which he greets eagerly.

Johnson, for his part, doesn’t take a whole lot of convincing. Perhaps it is you delicate hand already sliding the length of him through his breeches but he helps you with fumbling fingers to unbuckle his belt and loosen the buttons, before tugging them down to mid-thigh.

His erection quivers in the cooler air, standing straight to attention. A small trickle of clear precum oozes from the tip, inviting you in. The glisten of it make you want to slip him between your lips, taste him, roll the soft almost velvety texture of skin covering hard steel in your mouth. But William doesn’t give you time for a taste, his hands pull at you, trying to get access to your bare skin by tearing your own clothing aside. Your skirts are pulled up and underwear slid off quickly with much fumbling of hands and awkwardness in the back of the cramped carriage.

Turning, you face away from him, backside pressed against his groin and feet just barely balancing on the floor.

William’s cock slides against your now bare thighs, drawing a pleasurable gasp from your throat.

Large hands encircle your waist helping you move as you push back against him. You ease up onto your tiptoes as Johnson helps position the head of his cock at the entrance to your body. Easing downward, you finish sitting in his lap again, ridged cock fully flushed inside of you, unsure whose moan betrayed the most pleasure.

It felt good to have him buried to the hilt inside of you, snug and tight, you flexed your inner muscles drawing a groan from him but you felt every hard inch of him push back, unyielding.

William’s fingers tighten around your bare thighs, digging in just this side of painful. You realise that you can’t hear anything and you are pretty sure he is holding his breath.

The carriage bounces slightly on the road and you nearly slide from his lap, only the Templars tight hold on your body keep you in place. You both groan in pleasure from the movement, you definitely need more of that.

Bracing one hand on the soft carriage roof and the other on the side you use it as leverage to rock back and forth on his lap, aided by his hands raising you up and dragging you back down onto his hard member with force.

Little low noises of masculine pleasure reach your ears with every thrust. It feels wonderful to have him slide in and out of you, your body clinging to him on every upstroke and fighting tight resistance downwards, but you need a little more stimulation to release the tightly coiling pressure building in your abdomen. Removing your hand from its braced position on the roof, you sneak it down between your legs. Fingertips find your clit easily, stroking and teasing the sensitive little nub, coaxing your orgasm in time with strokes from William’s body.  

You notice that Johnson seems to have stopped moving.  Warm palms are still pressed tight against your thighs assisting you in moving along the length of his shaft but his own hips have stopped bucking up off of the leather seat.

You glance over your shoulder, a fine sheen of sweat litters his forehead, pupils dilated until you almost can’t see the light blue of his irises. Johnson’s breathing exhales heavily through his nose every time you slide back down to be fully joined. He is biting his lip with such a look of concentration, holding out until you have finished.

You continue fucking him, rolling your hips to hear breathy masculine moans, riding him, taking your pleasure from his body as he stills and lets you do what you like.

You up the pace on your clit, first two fingers wet and slippery from the cum leaking form your joining slide back and forth across it in fast, harsh strokes. You are used to getting yourself off, this part is always easy, you have spent many years getting to know your body and when in the mood can easily have a quickie in a few minutes. But this feels so much better than the practiced fumblings of self-pleasure, the warm thickness of William's body deep inside you, the soft skin of his cock dragging back and forth along your inner walls with every stroke. Angling forwards slightly changes the feel of him inside of you and you are soon trying to muffle your cries as a tidal wave of pleasure radiates from your swollen clit and through the rest of your pussy. Tightening around him, your legs are shaking in effort of being parted so wide and being used to push yourself up and down of him for so long.

William must have felt it but he makes no move, even through you have stopped writhing and no longer have the strength or stamina to continue to bounce on his lap.

Large arms wrap around your waist, rising to cup your breasts and tugging you bodily backwards so that your back is tight against his warm chest. His beard tickles your neck as lips run along your bare skin, finishing with a gently nip of teeth on your shoulder.

Easing yourself from his grip and lap, William seems reluctant to let you out of his embrace.

Still panting in pleasure, your legs wobble and there is a mutual groan of loss as his warm body slides from inside of yours.

The coach is too low to stand up on and you are exhausted from your orgasm. Turning back to face him, you sink to your knees in front of the Templar.  His cock is still hard and glistening wet with your cum; it looks incredibly inviting.

William glances down at you kneeling between his legs, his arousal still clear, gaze wandering across your face with a mixture of embarrassment and lust. His hand slowly curls around the base of his cock, encasing his shaft in a tight fist. As much as you would enjoy watching him pleasure himself, that is perhaps a fun activity for another time. It would be a little mean to leave him to his own devices and it’s not quite what you have in mind at this moment.

He seems puzzled as you swat his hand away but the surprise turns to a gasp that you would have assumed was pain if his eyes hadn’t fluttered closed and hips thrust to meet you when you replaced his hand with your own. Wrapping your lips around the wide and glistening tip of his cock, you suck gently, tasking the salty muskiness from your body as well as his own. Darting out your tongue, you lick him, lavishing attention on the most sensitive part.

‘Good god.’ Williams’s words are barely audible, hissed out between tightly clenched teeth. He slides down further in the seat. His thighs are trapped by his trousers and you need to tug them all the way down to his ankles before his legs fall open wider.

Turning back to your task you slide down the length of his shaft, hollowing your cheeks and taking as much of William’s cock as you can manage. The low groans and practical whimpers reaching your ears let you know your actions are appreciated and encourage you to keep going, move a little faster, flick more with your tongue.

He seems to have a death grip on the edge of the leather seat, knuckles white from the strain as his body quivers under you, trying to restrain the upward drive of his hips.

You flick your tongue across the velveteen cock, working your way up and down his shaft, humming in pleasure as you cradle him. Grasping the base firmly, you gently squeeze your fist in time with the strokes of your mouth so that the full length of him is encased in heat and wetness.

You roll your eyes from the prize in front of you up length of William’s body, expecting his head to be flung back or eyes closed, enjoying his pleasure. But dilated pupils and an intense gaze meet yours instead. He had obviously been staring down at you for a while, relishing the sight of his body disappearing into your mouth.

The Templars voice waivers as does his gaze. Eyes dart away from yours as if he is embarrassed to be caught staring so intently. You almost smirk as you catch eyes wandering back to where you are pleasuring him and being caught every time, it almost becomes a dance. One hand releases its death grip on the carriage seat and he strokes fingers gently through your hair, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as your mouth bobs along the length of his cock.

Johnson shifts slightly, just as your eyes flicker back down to the coarse black hair gracing his stomach, but his movement causes you to gaze up at his face once again. William’s mouth opened but seeing you looking at him again, he quickly presses his lips tight together. He was going to say something, you can tell, but he has become embarrassed.

There is a small disappointed groan as you slip the length of him from your mouth.

‘Did you want something?’ You purr.

William quickly shakes his head, mouth a ridged tight line.

You trail a slow, teasing lick across the red glistening head of his cock and his hips strain upwards.

‘God, woman!’ He hisses, almost as an expletive.

‘Are you sure?’ You tease. Now it not the time to be bashful, but his reluctance to be demanding is quite endearing.

Johnson rests his head back against the seat, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

‘No.’ His voice is strained. He is trying to appear nonchalant but you are not fooled. ‘No. This is …wonderful, _please_ continue.’

The deep pink blush is back over his cheeks. You are quite convinced he would be happy with you finishing him like this but he wanted something else, something he is too reluctant to ask you now.

‘What do you want?’

Still he shakes his head, not meeting your gaze, biting that full bottom lip.

Lightly you trace your fingers up his shaft, playing with the wetness clinging to his skin. ‘Tell me your fantasy and I promise to indulge you.’

‘I want you to enjoy yourself, I don’t want you to indulge me.’

‘I’m not putting it back in my mouth until you tell me.’

The gently throb of his cock in your hand lets you know that he is going to give in first. You lick a small clear drop of leaking precum just to give him extra incentive, stretching the sticky fluid between the tip of him and your tongue as he watches.

William sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment and tilting his head back as if offering a silent prayer.

‘I am going to hell for this.’ He murmurs to no one in particular.

You smirk at him from your position kneeling between his legs. ‘There are a lot of things we are in trouble for so far, might as well add to the list.’

His lips twitch beneath his beard as he tries not to laugh.

‘I want…’

You give a little squeeze of your hand as he trails off, offering encouragement.

‘I want…to, um, cum…’ Well you would have hoped so. ‘…on your breasts.’ Is almost whispered low enough for you not to hear it. He is purposely not meeting your eye.

Really? That was it? A little visual fantasy to go with his fellatio was easily done.

You slide him back between your lips, gently sucking on his flesh, swirling your tongue across the sensitive head and trying to bring him as close to orgasm as you can with your mouth while you wriggle out the top part of your dress with your hands.

You manage to loosen enough clothing to spill your cleavage out of the bodice. You wouldn’t have thought his straining cock could get any harder but it did. You can feel his excitement increasing; he pulses in your mouth and swallows his own saliva audibly.

Releasing his cock, you push the straining member between the valley of your breasts. Pressing against him firmly to try and create a warm channel of pleasure he can slide through, leaving a wet line along your skin as you move gently up and down.

William groans with each touch, you can feel his eyes on you, his look intense as he enjoys the sight of his slick cock, flushed angry red with excitement, sliding back and forth across your skin and being caressed by the soft tissue of your breasts.  Leaning down, you trail your tongue across the tip every time he thrusts near to your mouth to add to the stimulation.

In a matter of what seems like only moments, a deep groan escapes him and a stream of white sticky cum erupts, splashing your neck and chest. But he is not finished, hips jerking off of the seat for a time, leaving you wondering if he will ever finish as he decorates your cleavage with his seed.

Finally, small anticlimactic drips finally issue from the tip and trail down the shaft.

Panting, lips parted, William amuses himself by trailing the head of his softening cock back and forth across the mound of your breasts, rubbing his seed into your skin. A small rivulet trails down across one nipple and the cooling cum causes the bud to peak. You shiver at the sensation and the head of William’s cock sweeps across it too, massaging your flesh with his.  

You let him enjoy his moment, his pleasure.  He seems transfixed with the sight of his cum your body.

Eventually strong solid arms ease you off of the floor until you are almost sitting in his lap again. The Templar kisses you deeply, sharing the taste of him from your mouth before his own lips descend to your cum covered nipple, encompassing it in his warm wet mouth and sucking firmly.

Bucking on his lap you need to pull away from his talented mouth. The suck of your nipple was stirring sparks of arousal between your legs but you can’t afford to get caught up again.

With a final flick of his tongue, William releases your sensitive bud to the cooler air of the carriage. His gaze finds yours, lazy and satisfied. His hair is damp around the temples, eyes unfocused and cheeks pink. His reaction has been visceral and you had enjoyed watching it. His pleasure, his reaction to your body had excited you. If that was one of this Templars little kinks then you will be doing that again.

Johnson gives you an easy smile before capturing your lips again in slow, languid kiss.

‘That was wonderful, I promise to make it up to you.’

‘I seem to recall already getting mine.’ You tease him.

 In fact you are still wet from your last orgasm but that doesn’t stop him sliding his hand under your skirt, fingers expertly seeking the moist heat between your legs.

You moan as the tips of his fingers brush delicately through your folds, dancing across your still sensitive nub before seeking further down. The tip of his finger circles your entrance promising penetration and you are sorely tempted to let him slide those wonderfully dexterous digits into your body.

‘Should we not be cleaning up before we reach Charles’ home?’ You remind him. Surely you must nearly be there by now.

William gives a small sigh of dissatisfaction as he leans forwards, gazing through the small box window from the carriage. He appears to recognise the place as he groans deeply.

‘We are quite close, yes.’

Sliding from his lap was difficult, as was trying to rearrange some of your clothing. You were in a mess to put it mildly. You briefly wonder what Thomas, Charles or Haytham might say if you turned up half naked and already covered in cum. To be honest, you aren’t sure they may not actually enjoy that.

William pulls a few handkerchiefs from his pockets and hands them to you to clean up a bit.

Finally you are about as clean and presentable as possible given the circumstances but you shouldn’t arouse too much suspicion unless anyone is looking too closely. You give thanks for dark fabrics and heavy wool for not giving away patches of wet stains, but you are aware that your cheeks are probably flushed and hair in a mess and surely the distinct smell of sex radiates off the pair of you.

A giggle threatens to escape your lips as you watch William take a few attempts to lace up his breeches with shaking fingers. The poor man looks a little dazed.

Thankful that you hadn’t continued with your inappropriate behaviour as no sooner had you both become a vision of respectability, when the carriage rumbled to a stop and door swung open. You check for signs of amusement on the coachman’s face as he holds the door to allow you and William to clamber out but thankfully your antics in the back had not been discovered.

‘You absolutely sure you do not wish to go home?’ Johnson enquires innocently as he takes your arm to escort you to Charles Lee’s front door.

‘I could always come and keep you company, just the two of us.’

He gives you a playful wink and you elbow him gently in the ribs.

‘Behave yourself, Mr Johnson.’

His lips quirk in teasing amusement under that dark full beard. ‘Oh, now you tell me to behave myself? I’ll remind you of that later madam.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little discipline is in order after your bad behaviour and Charles Lee is more than happy to administer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mentioned the lack of plot before right? Pretty much unadulterated smut for my own amusement. Haytham is running late for games night and chapter two ran on for longer than expected (was having too much fun). But fear not, the Grandmaster will be making an appearance next chapter.

You are shown in to a large sitting room by a petite red headed girl with soft features and a pronounced Irish lilt to her voice. No introductions were made but by her dress and the fact she answered the door to you and William, you assume that she is Lee’s maid.

It is dull inside the room, dark red heavy looking drapes obscuring most of the natural light from the windows. It is also incredibly, insufferably warm. Flames crackle in the large ornate fireplace and has clearly has been burning for some time. You automatically begin to sweat as the wall of heat hits you; it had nothing to do with the recent exertions with Mr Johnson in the back of a swaying carriage…honestly.

You don't know how Charles can stand to be fully dressed here but he is currently sitting with even his frock coat on. Papers are spread across a dark wood table in front on him and he stops scratching away with his quill as you and William enter. Piercing green eyes rise from his paperwork for a moment, observing the pair of you, they widen for the briefest of moments in surprise before dropping to his work again.

The servant girl that escorted you in was dismissed with a casual wave of his hand and a lowly murmured instruction that she could retire for the rest of day and take some of the other staff with her. She scuttled off happily in shock, no doubt making a sharp exit before her master changed his mind. You had a feeling that Charles was perhaps not the easiest man to work for.

Lee shifts some of his papers aside before settling his gaze back on you. It is an intense look; you can practically see his brain ticking over. No doubt he sees your dishevelled appearance and kiss-swollen lips and knows exactly what you and Johnson have been up to.

'Thomas is already here Bill. He is in the study upstairs, some task from the Grandmaster. He had to go over plans with you I believe?’

Your stomach flutters slightly, Thomas is already here? Thinking back to a few days ago and the feel of his teeth bared against your neck, fingers splayed across your thighs. There is the slightest throb between your legs that you try to quell quickly. Dammit you just had a round of intense sex with William not ten minutes ago, you are becoming wanton and really need to get a hold of yourself...or let them get a hold of you preferably. You mentally kick yourself, stop it!

‘I’m afraid the Grandmaster is not here yet. The last correspondence from him indicated that he had some business to attend with the new boy, Shay, I think his name was. Although he was very… _keen_ to get here for tonight.’

Lee looks pointedly at your with a small leering smirk.

The level of disappointment you feel at Haytham not being here surprises you, you had been looking forward to seeing him again tonight and hope that he manages to arrive later on.

'Ah yes, it is most important we finish those plans before any... _fun_ this evening. Excuse me a moment.'  William comments.

He had been standing behind you, warm palm resting distractingly on your lower back, but he animatedly turns to head out the door to somewhere else in the house.  A moment of panic swoops low in your stomach at the sight of his dark brown head and broad shoulders retreating. You were going to be left alone. With Charles. 

Whether William felt your panic or simply realised this fact for himself, he suddenly hesitates in the doorway, glancing back between Charles and yourself.

Lee raises one dark black eyebrow, smirking at Williams’s hesitation.

‘Problem?' He enquires with a smug tone to his voice.

‘No. No I-'. William stutters. Perhaps he didn't want to voice his distrust of Charles to his face. You are not sure you want him to leave either. You know William, much better than Charles at any rate. In fact you always felt the latter didn't really like you much.

Johnson looks guiltily at you; he needs to go and see Hickey and doesn't have an excuse to take you with him.

'I'll just be upstairs if anyone needs me. I'm sure you can...yell.'

It's the best he can do really given the circumstances. Charles looks quite amused rather than offended. You are not sure that you would be amused if someone was suggesting that your guests call for help if needed.

You are left alone with Charles listening to the heels of William’s boots click in the distance on the hard wooden floor.  The Templar is still sitting at the table in a hard, high backed wooden seat, appraising you with his gaze while you are awkwardly standing in the middle of his too warm sitting room.

'I confess myself surprised to see you.' His voice is low, even and smooth, but ever so slightly threatening.

You swallow back nervousness. Something about this man is dangerous a little feeling in the back of your head and the pit of your stomach warns you. A small snort almost escapes your lips at the thought, they are _all_ dangerous you chide yourself. They are Templars. They have no doubt murdered and bribed and threatened. But Haytham and Johnson and Hickey don't give you quite the same feeling as the man sitting before you with a feral gleam in his eye and a posture that would put a General to shame.

Unfortunately the same uneasy feeling is also lodging somewhere between your legs and lets you know he is a man that would pin you down and fuck you roughly, mercilessly, and you would enjoy every minute of it, even if he did not particularly care one bit if you did.

Charles leans forward on his seat, forearms braced on his thighs. You flinch at the sudden movement and his lips twitch, possibly in amusement, under that thick black moustache. He flexes his hands, slowly, deliberately. The act has you quivering in anticipation and fear. You remember those thick fingers gliding over your skin in a surprisingly soft way, pressed between your legs, plundering your body… god. Swallowing hard you try and shake yourself of this feeling. He was being deliberately intimidating because that is the type of person he is.

Given the actions of last week, Lee is unlikely to be thinking along the lines of hurting you, not when you can be doing more pleasurable things.

He stands smoothly and stalks across the floor towards you.

'May I get you a drink?' His words are far more solicits than his body language.

'Yes please.’ You say automatically, just for a distraction. He is very close now and you fight not to take a step backwards.  You can smell him, a musky male smell that rolls along your tongue and makes your knees weak.

You await Charles making his move, imagining the taste of his lips as he leans forwards, head bending towards your own. His mouth stops, hovering inches from you, so much so that if you were to lick your lips you would likely touch him. So instead you concentrate on remaining as still as possible, much like a mouse wary of not alerting a nearby snake.

An arm circles behind you, almost caressing your hip. Expecting him to suddenly ponce, kiss you and drag you into his embrace it is almost disappointing when Lee picks up a decanter sitting on a small drinks table behind you instead. You hadn’t even realised that you had backed up that much and were nearly pressed against it.

Charles remains intimately close, taking his time, leisurely pouring a glass of deep, almost black coloured, wine with deliberate slowness.

Carefully sitting the bottle back in its place, Lee is forced to reach around your body. He could have easily asked to you move, the bastard is doing it on purpose, trapping you in the circle of his arms His warm breath tickles along your skin in gentle puffs and his larger body nearly presses fully against you.

Picking up the glass, Charles inhales sharply, nose almost buried in the crook of your neck before pulling back. Green eyes flash dangerously as his other hand hovers, almost as if wanting to place it on your waist or touch you in some way.

'You smell of him.' He murmurs, smirking at your surprised reaction.

You assume he means William, especially after what went on between the two of you getting here.

'I'll admit that I am surprised to see you.’ He presses, breath whispering along your collarbone as he hands you the glass. His fingers leave a lingering caress across the back of your hand, rubbing a small circle for a fraction of a second too long for it to be accidental.

Almost toe to toe, Lee’s larger body is all that fills your vision. Heart fluttering frantically in your chest, you imagine that he can probably see your pulse beating in your neck.

'I'm surprised I came myself.' You admit honestly.

You hesitate, wondering if you should explore feelings on the matter. Keeping things just to sex may be more beneficial. But who agrees to sex with someone who hates you? What kind of person did that make you, or him for that matter?

'I assumed you didn't like me.'

Charles grins, it is not comforting. ‘Do not take it personally, I don't really like anyone.'

You are not sure whether to laugh or not. Hickey had a sense of humour, Johnson, even the serious Grandmaster to a much lesser extent, but you have yet to see any flippant side to Mr Lee. It is just possible he is one hundred percent serious.

'I find you very attractive. Beautiful.'

You blush under his confession.

'You are smart - intelligent, but...'

Rolling your eyes, you should have known there would be a _but_ in there somewhere.

'But?' You press him.

Lee smirks.

'You are far too opinionated. _Wilful_.'  He says the last with such distaste.

You raise your eyes to him in angry outrage, mouth hanging open. 

'It is not an attractive quality in a lady.'

You splutter indignation; sitting aside you glass back on the table because right now you are tempted to throw it over him.

'You sexist pig.'

Lee chuckles deeply and shrugs as if you say; it's who I am and I make no apologies. He watches you sit the glass down, your fingers obviously curling in anger.

Taking a deep breath, you suddenly have a feeling that he possibly tried to rile you, just to see if you would do just what you had been thinking. You have watched Charles make sarcastic and offhand remarks before, usually it is at Hickey’s expense but he also takes liberties with Johnson. The Grandmaster seems to be the only one that Charles had no reprimanding words against.

‘I have no idea how the Grandmaster puts up with your constant squawking in his ear.’ He goads, sarcastically.

Lee is trying to make you angry, pushing your buttons on purpose, but you are not sure to what reason.

He leans into you more, lips brushing your earlobe, his voice drops. ‘You have no idea how tempted I am at times to put you over my _knee_.’ 

Oh now that got a reaction from you. You remember how much the Templar had enjoyed spanking your arse last time, and if you recall, it was something you had found highly enjoyable too. So that’s what he wants, a willing little slave that he can punish. Lee wants to be the dominant one. Why are you not bloody surprised?

 'Let's play a little game. I want to see how well you obey, for a while. I’ll tell you what to do, and you do it. I don’t want your backchat or that delightful little insolent roll of your eyes-'

You swallow hard; you had just been doing the very thing. Charles smirks as you look at him wide eyed and guiltily.

‘-no talking until given permission, I’m going to control your body for the next few hours.’

You wonder what else he has in mind. It could be fun. You could possibly do as Charles asks, especially if he gives you a good spanking and fucks you like last time, you’ll happily play his little submissive whore.

A hand snakes around your waist, the other tangles firmly in your hair at the base of your neck and the strength and suddenness has your heart hammering, breathy in anticipation. The grip on your hair is almost painful as Lee twists slightly so that you can't even move your head without hurting yourself. His lips hover almost an inch from yours, not closing that final small distance, waiting, waiting for you to make your mind up.

Part of you thinks trusting this man would be a very bad idea but another part is getting incredibly aroused at his unapologetic dominance and horrible attitude.

Leaning forward slightly you try and brush your lips against his, but he holds his ground, not moving towards you, forcing you to tug against his strong hands and hurt yourself by pulling your hair.

Slowly, centimetre by centimetre your lips meet his, the thick coarse scrape of moustache tickling around your mouth.  The kiss is unapologetically intrusive, demanding and arrogant. Charles softly bites your bottom lip, sucking on it until it tingles, all the while fingers clenching against your scalp.

A large rough hand caresses your throat, down across your body, stroking you through the thin fabric of bodice and skirt. Lee’s warm breath puffs along your jaw line as he leaves your lips and begins nipping along the exposed skin of your neck, following the direction of his hand.

Your stomach squirms in anticipation as hands finally rest on your hips, gripping tightly and holding you in place. As his mouth continues its assault at the hollow of your throat, you head rolls back, small sighs of pleasure panting towards the ceiling.

Charles straightens and pulls away sharply, leaving you groaning at the loss of warmth from his body and the feel of him caressing you. His face is a mask of authority and anger; you would have been scared if you didn’t catch the heated look in his eyes. It’s part of his game.

'Take your clothes off'.

 It was a command, not a request, intense eyes boring into your own.  You can't meet such scrutiny and automatically drop your gaze. Pausing, hesitantly, Lee grips your chin firmly between his thumb and index finger, and tilting your head back up to look at him.

This wasn't a good idea, someone could walk in at any moment. You had at least expected something...more, before they planned on getting your naked.

Lee cocks one dark eyebrow, brokering no argument.

‘You heard me. Strip.’ His voice has taken on a low dangerous quality that you really shouldn't be enjoying.

The Templar steps back to gain a better view. You has thought you knew what the term ‘undressing them with your eyes’ meant, and a few men and women have certainly looked your way along those lines but it was nothing like this. Charles eyes roamed over every inch, violently tearing your clothing off with his gaze so much so that you could practically feel the slap of air against your skin.

Your thighs clench, moisture is flooding between your legs. This shouldn’t be so exciting. What the hell was wrong with you?

Taking a deep breath, you feel shy under his watchful eye but begin shedding your clothing slowly, taking your time, revealing small inches of nakedness, partly in embarrassment and partly trying to torture him just a little. You don’t want to make it too easy for him or let him think you will just blindly follow his commands. Glancing furtively around the room you move at a measured pace, hands reaching towards the laces of your clothing.

Lee remains meters from you watching your slow reveal with hungry eyes. The little dart of his tongue wetting his lips does nothing to calm the feeling that he is looking at you the way lions watch gazelles.

You turn your back on him to shimmy out of the rest of your clothing, piling them neatly on to the chair. The sitting room is still incredibly warm but your nipples still peak and you shudder, completely naked. Feeling self-conscious and suddenly very vulnerable, your hands move to cover your breasts and groin as you turn back to face the Templar, but Charles had stepped in closer while you were not watching, bringing the smell of sweet wine and musky aftershave back.

His scrutiny is a little softer, eyeing your naked body with reverence and wonder. He drags your hands back you your sides, away from hiding your body, one finger under your chin and lifting it gently, gaze never dipping lower than your face so that he can kiss you again. Your eyes flutter closed in pleasure as his mouth caresses every inch.

'Think of a word.'

Your eyes snap open at his question.

'One word not connected with this, with sex, something other than no because that is too easy to say and I may want you to say that anyway.’ His lip quirks. ‘Say the word once and I’ll stop what I’m doing to you.'

You swallow at his choice of words. What's does he mean ‘what he's doing to you?’  That sounds rather…ominous.

'I will move onto something else, something you may find more pleasurable. Say it twice in quick succession and I will stop altogether.'

You blink owlishly at him.

'You understand?' He prompts gently.

You lick your suddenly dry lips, nodding slightly. Heart racing, you ponder what Lee just offered. This sounds rather intense, but your clit practically pulses at the thought and you are desperate for some more form of physical contact. That could be a very fun game.

'So are we playing?' Charles leans in pressing the front of his clothed body against your naked one. The fabric is soft against your skin but the body underneath is hard and unyielding. The press of his erection digs firmly against your hip and you are glad that he is seemingly as affected by you as much as you are of him. It makes you feel a little better and makes the man seem more human.

It’s amazing how your mind goes blank all of a sudden. Of your entire vocabulary all words seem to have evaporated. You can hear Charles heavy breathing as he awaits your yes or no. Your eyes scan the room and fall on the papers he had strewn across the table, pen smudging ink onto the parchment.

'Quill'. Your mind provides automatically. Charles grins, eyes following yours. He snorts amusement in your lack of imagination.

'So remember the rules and hold out your hands.'

Reluctantly you do as he bids, wondering why exactly you need to hold out your hangs.

Lee presses your wrists tight together and quickly secures them with a thick brown belt from around his waist.

Instinctively you pull back, not wanting your hands bound and be left so vulnerable, but the Templar tugs them back together with an impatient growl, reminding you of your agreement.

The heavy leather feels smooth against your skin. Looping around your wrists a few times and buckling, Charles pulls it just tight enough to dig in. Unconsciously you tug, testing the bonds but they won't come loose.  Squirming where you stand, you now feel distinctly trapped.

Charles gives you a brief tantalising kiss with just the barest hint of tongue before disappearing again. He sighs wistfully, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your swollen lips.

'Pity I need you to be able to talk. I have been dreaming of gagging that pretty little mouth for an age.'

His words send another bolt of pleasure straight between your legs. You wouldn't have thought being tied and gagged and at Charles Lee's mercy would have appealed to you but your body was certainly excited at the prospect.

A warm palm engulfs your right breast, kneading and weighing the heavier flesh gently in his hand, Charles thumb and forefinger tease your nipple. He suddenly pinches roughly drawing a strangled gasp from your throat.

Lips parted, you pant, watching him with heavy hooded eyes, hoping that he does it again.

Watching your face eagerly, Charles rolls your peaked nipple between his fingers, finally giving another sharp squeeze. It was a little harder this time, pleasure mixing with a hint of pain.

The Templars dark head dips to your other breast, sucking the second peeking bud into his mouth and flicking a soft wet tongue over it. Again, his fingers pinch the other, much more severely, but the pleasure his mouth is eliciting dulls the effect and you are squirming against him for more. Head thrown back, you shake on weak legs, but with your hands tied you can’t cling to him effectively and are forced to try and remain upright when all you want to do is sink to the floor and have his body pin you down.

Charles continues, increasing his torment, torturing you with sharp pinches that send shooting pain through your right breast but using his mouth on the other. If his mouth hadn’t been there you would probably have asked him to stop by now but moans of pleasure are being forced from your throat instead with every circle of his tongue.

With a final severe twist it’s too much, even with his mouth working you and you hiss in pain, trying to pull away.

Charles releases you from his mouth and fingers as soon as you show signs of displeasure.

Breathing heavy, you shiver, one nipple stinging in pain, the other tingling form his warm wet mouth. Lee grins, thumb gently massaging the abused breast.

‘You can with stand a lot of pain I see. With the right motivation of course.’

He gives you a soft kiss and a final caress to your nipple.

‘I needed to test the bar on how far I could push it. Don’t worry, you know what to you if you are not enjoying yourself.’

His fist balls in the back of your hair, forcing your neck in a tight line that he can run his lips over, biting down gently on the fluttering pulse point in your throat.  

Just when you were enjoying the feel of his lips, his hand in your hair tugs downwards painfully, forcing you to your knees. Lee gazes down at you, smirking.

Licking your lips, you eye the significant bulge in the front of his trousers. You thought you knew what the Templar wanted, why he put you in such a position, but as you reached tentative fingers out to touch his straining cock, the tight grip on your hair pulls you closer towards the floor.

Stunned, you finally end up sitting fully on your backside, hands tied in front and utterly naked.  You give a confused look to the man looming over you but he only chuckles.

'You are going to sit there while I finish my drink.' Lee all but purrs with an evil smirk.

Charles wanders back to his chair, taking the decanter with him and refilling his wine. He pulls some of his papers close and begins to read, affording you no more of his attention for now.

You stare at him open mouthed.  He was just going to leave you sitting here? Was this enjoyable for him? You thought he wanted power and obedience, you thought he would have you on your knees demanding that you suck his cock.

Charles makes a show of pointedly ignoring you sat naked in his sitting room. This is certainly not what you expected. You knew lee was a difficult man, taciturn with a need to be dominant and in control. You had expected a rough, brutal coupling, for him to slake his lust quickly without care of your enjoyment.  Instead, he sips his wine and sorts his paperwork.

However it is not long before you feel the weight of his gaze. Hooded eyes watch you hungrily from the chair. He smirks at you, as if you were nothing more than a pretty decoration for his home.  Lee chuckles lowly, an arrogant shadow across his face. No doubt you were giving him a puzzled but insolent look. How dare he arouse you then tie you up and abandon you! You initially thought that you would suffer at Charles’s hands with all the talk of punishment and safe words, but this was so much worse. Desperate and wanting him, all the while he denies you.

You can practically feel his gaze caress your body more intimately than any hand could. It left you panting and needy and squirming on the floor desperate for…something, some sort of physical contact.

Fidgeting, it feels like you have been sat here forever. You lean back slightly to rest against the table behind you.

'Open your legs.'

You startle as Charles rich deep voice suddenly commands you, causing you to sit a little straighter, eyes darting to his. He sits his glass delicately on the table, attention now fully on you. Perhaps he has had enough waiting.

'You heard me. Open your legs. I want to see that pretty little quim.'

So his game was determined to embarrass you and make you blush. It's working, you will have to admit.

Hesitantly you part your knees, the air caresses your skin intimately and you bite back a moan and the urge to start wriggling on the floor.

Charles licks his lips at the move and you can see them glisten all the way across the room. You idly hope those lips will be on you at some point, relatively soon.

'Come now you can do better than that.' He coaxes.

You are forced to draw up your knees slightly towards your chest, allowing them to open pretty much as wide as possible. With your task done Charles gives you a long lingering look, it’s nowhere near your face and you blush, heat rising all the way from your chest to tips of your ears.

And then he turns his attention back to his dammed paperwork! That bastard! You are going to kill him when he lets you go. Hell, you have a feeling that he is going to make you beg him to fuck you. That would play right into his already over inflated ego.

Any more of this, a little voice in the back of your head whispers, and you just might.

It's a dance you notice. Every time you glance at Lee, he is paying no attention. But you catch him watching when you look away, just out the corner of your eye.

 

 

 

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable, you fidget on the floor, wriggling and trying to move, but with your hands tied it’s difficult. There is a growing ache between your legs, you need something, his touch, or your own.

Charles has been watching you squirm with amused eyes for some time. His long fingers slip across his thigh tracing down his leg. He bypasses his straining cock completely and you must admit that you admire his resolve.

Something long and black tucked into those calf high boots is drawn out slowly. How had you not noticed that thing? But now you eye him warily, flinching at the sight of it as the Templar caresses the black, wicked-looking riding crop lovingly between his fingers.

Swallowing hard, your stomach flutters, not in arousal this time but fearful anticipation. He surely wasn't planning on using _that_ , was he? A small tendril of panic was now quelling your earlier desire for him touching you. If this is the touch he had in mind, you are not sure you want it. Your gaze is drawn inexplicably to the rod weaving in and out of thick fingers. His movements were slow, deliberate, eyes on you as he caressed it much like he would caress another part of your anatomy. Charles shifts in his seat and you can tell he is getting more excited.

Leaning forward in his chair, knees on elbows, the crop makes a soft thwack as taps it against his leather boots. Lee’s eyes sparkle in mischief.

'Touch yourself.'

It didn't hold the same weight as his command to strip, voice seeming a little hoarse. Perhaps Charles is not as unaffected or in totally control as you thought. It is strangely comforting.

You raise a questioning eyebrow. What exactly did he want?

‘Go on. You have my permission to pleasure yourself. Surely you are aching for some sort of stimulation by now.’

He smirks. Smug bastard. Still, you had been internally complaining about the increasing uncomfortable feeling between your legs. Although you would much rather have rougher, larger, male fingers rubbing between your legs than your own but you will take what you can get.

Your slip your fingers between your stretched open thighs, cursing the hot flush you can feel spread across your cheeks as Charles continues watching animatedly. Sliding through your soft folds you are already wet and he knew it. Who were you really trying to kid that you weren’t secretly enjoying this.  You circle around the outside of your clit, warming the area but as your fingertips slide across the nub it is already engorged and desperate for more direct stimulation. You set about your task with abandon, trying to focus on Charles’s hungry, parted lips. The look on his face is priceless, lips parted, he is thoroughly enjoying the show with pupils so dilated that his eyes appear black from this distance.

Soon you can’t watch him, can’t keep your gaze locked with his increasingly intimate one. Your eyes slip closed as you focus solely on the pleasure between your legs, driving you further and further towards orgasm. Hips begin bucking back and forth shallowly in time with the movement of your fingers. Movements quickly become sharper, faster, harder, and little moans of excitement are escaping your mouth.

You are incredibly warm, the room is meltingly hot and your actions have caused a small trickle of sweat to roll down your spine and gather at your hairline and under your breasts. But you continue greedily, eyes closed, all that matters is the feeling between your legs building to something amazing.

A noise startles you and your eyes flick open immediately searching for Charles. He is still in his seat, hands resolutely gripping the arm rests. He is still watching but he isn’t the only one anymore. From the doorway two figures have entered the room as you were pleasuring yourself. Thomas Hickey is grinning, eyes focused on you while William Johnson seems to have been rooted to the spot mid stride, cheeks pink and a look of astonishment across his face.

You blink, staring at them, eyes wide but unable to stop. You are too far gone, yes you are embarrassed, possibly as far as ashamed, but you are so close and the pressure between your legs is reaching a crescent.

William’s mouth opens.

‘Stop.’

Who said that? It wasn’t William, you had been watching him, his lips parted but he definitely didn’t get to say anything. His eyes snap sideways as he and Hickey glance in Charles’s direction. Your gaze follows theirs to find that Lee is fixing you with a dark look, eyes burrowing into you.

‘I said stop. Right. Now.’

His tone is not to be argued with. He sounds angry, and his voice sparks that small tendril of fear again. Reluctantly you move your fingers away from your swollen, twitching clit, with a moan of dissatisfaction. You had been so desperately close to cumming.

Charles smirks at your angry and disappointed glare it his direction.

‘Good girl.’ He purrs, voice back to being delicious chocolate evil.

Your cunt throbs.  That git did that on purpose. He is playing with you. He wanted you to get close, now he is denying you the pleasure of release.

Lee’s grin only widens at your mutinous look. ‘Oh dear, I see it will take more than that to tame you.’

He rounds on the other two men in the room.

‘Finished your business then? Can I offer you a drink, gentlemen?’

Johnson clears his throat loudly, moving on seemingly shaky legs to practically fall into a chair at Lee’s side. Hickey saunters over to the other two men, giving you a cheeky wink and blowing you a kiss. He too takes a seat at the large table.

Charles pours wine from a decanter for the three of them; Hickey and Johnson seem to have trouble keeping their eyes off of your flushed, splayed and completely naked frame that is currently leaking cum on the master of the houses carpet.

Charles looks over at you, giving you one final sweep of those intense green eyes that is practically a violation all on its own. He motions towards you.

‘Would you like a drink, my dear?’

You pause, mulling it over. What answer was he expecting? If he was expecting one that is. Was this him being considerate or part of his game?

You finally nod.

‘Yes.’ _Please_ you add quickly as afterthought thinking that he would enjoy the politeness, and Charles’s moustache twitches in amusement. Would it be too much, you wonder to call him Sir? He would probably get off on it and maybe it will earn you some brownie points.

A large glass of dark blood red liquid is poured out and Lee sits the delicate crystal on the table beside him. He wiggles his fingers, motioning you forwards, smirk plastered across those smug features.

‘Then crawl to me my lady.’

Dick. You mutter indignation under your breath. It’s another way for him to humiliate you. No doubt Charles sees the insubordination written across your face as you contemplate telling him not to bother, but he only grins wider.

It is difficult, but you manage to wiggle your tied hands underneath you and start the slow, awkward shuffling crawl to where Lee and the other Templars sit.

You finally reach him, stopping once you are kneeling between Lee’s legs. He lowers the glass down towards you delicately and you just manage to grasp it with your tied hands. Charles keeps a hold of the stem too and helps raise it to your lips to allow you to sip the fruity liquid. When finished, he sits it delicately back on the table.

You wonder how you will pay him back for this. You will need to think of something very good. The humiliation is a small sting and you are not ready to admit you are enjoying playing his slave just a little.

Lee picks up the riding crop from its discarded positon on the table. Hickey raises a surprised eyebrow and Johnson blanches, the poor man looks a little ill.

‘Turn around and present yourself to me.’

You eye Charles warily, breath hitching as he gives the crop a small swish through the air. Swallowing hard, you don’t move and the Templars voice dips lower as he is forced to repeat himself.

‘Turn around and stick that pretty little arse in the air.’

His face softens a little at your obvious reluctance and he sighs lowly.

‘Remember the rules.’

Right. The _rules_ , you think, as you slowly turn on the spot, pointing your backside in Lee’s direction and carefully lowering the top part of your body so that your cheek rests against the floor. You would like to think that he would stop if you asked. Would Hickey and Johnson make him stop you wonder?

Heart racing frantically, you quiver in anticipation, expecting a sharp stinging blow to befall you at any moment. You let out a squeak of fear, body tensing, as something touches your bare skin but you breathe a deep sigh of relief as you realise it is only Charles stroking his warm hand across your rump.

There is a slight tap as the soft fleshy tip of the crop idly smacks against your backside.

‘Care to try?’ You can hear Lee’s amused drone at the other men.

‘You’ll have to forgive me; abuse of women is not really my area.’ William’s voice drips sarcasm and scorn in Lee’s.

Charles chuckles dryly. ‘It’s not abuse if she’s enjoying it.’

You can hear Johnson sigh disgustedly. ‘A half hour we leave you alone for and she’s tied up and naked already.’

Lying on the floor in anticipation, it is slightly unnerving that you can’t see the three of them and wonder what is going on. Charles must be holding the crop out to Johnson, or indicating that he should try but William is having none of it.

‘I’ll pass, thank you.’ William states forcefully, clearly ending any argument or persuasion on the other Templars part.

A sharp painful whack across your exposed arse tears an unexpected cry from low in your throat. Your flesh tingles where the crop landed across your right cheek and glance over your shoulder to find Thomas grinning cheekily at you. Clearly he didn’t have William’s qualms about hitting you with it.

Hickey lets loose another few whacks across your skin and you squirm on the floor, jumping slightly with each blow. Thomas wasn’t doing it particularly hard, you think, but it was enough to feel the imprint on your bare skin and send little jolts of pleasure straight between your legs.

Oh my, this was much more fun than you had expected.

Another slap echoes in the room and you shiver all the way to your toes.

‘See Bill. Look at the reactions you can get.’ Charles gloats.

‘I can get those without leaving marks thank you.’ He replies cattily.

Panting heavily and eyes wide, you manage to peek over your shoulder to watch the two men glare at one another. Their little fight is amusing and the battle of wills is turning you on just a little. There is a small, perverse streak of feminine pride that gets inflamed at having these men fight over you.

Your body rocks with another blow, more violent that the last. You can feel heat rising from your stinging backside and can only imagine it is pink and inflamed. Your inner muscles clench and you whimper moaning a soft ‘ _yes please’_.

‘Yes please what?’ Charles murmurs huskily as the tip of the crop slides across your sensitive skin and between your legs. It traces the outer folds of your pussy slowly, slipping back and forth through the obvious wetness.

Well he wanted you to beg, you are pretty sure it will amuse him to hear you say it so you swallow a little bit of pride.

‘Please can you fuck me?’ You try and sound sincere, well, you are completely sincere, you are incredibly ready to be pounded to orgasmic oblivion but you try and sound meek, hoping  that your submissiveness with excite Charles.

‘Oh, you are _very_ good. Very good indeed, you almost had me.’ Lee chuckles, clearly knowing that you are trying to play him.

You hear footsteps click on the floor approaching you and a pair of dark brown boots appears in your eye line.

‘Up on your feet girl.’ Lee purrs as he places his hands under your elbows and helps lift you off of your prone position on the floor.

Your head swims from the movement, hazy from pleasure and being face down in one position too long. Blood rushes to your head and you sway but Charles is there holding you and eases you towards the table with surprisingly gentle hands.

Hickey and Johnson are still sitting at the large polished wooden table in their respective seats. You watch Hickey still fondling the crop, brown eyes twinkling in fun. He obviously enjoyed that too. He runs his tongue along the tip, delicately licking some of the moisture gathered after he pressed it between your legs. You whimper lowly, wanting him to run his tongue over you instead.

Johnson, however, looks as if he is severely trying to fight any sort of excited reaction to having you tied and whipped in his presence, but the tenting in the front of his trousers is giving him away.

Hesitating at the edge of the table, you are wondering what is coming next, but Charles bends you at the waist and pushes you face down. The wood feels cool under your abnormally warm skin. Breasts crushed against the surface and cheek pressed firmly to the table top, your feet _just_ managed to touch the floor.  Your still tied arms are stretched up over your head, probably so that you don’t touch yourself. That's what you really wanted to do right now and Charles knows it.

Gripping the edge of the table, head down, you don't really have a good look at the men and are back to being in a very vulnerable position where they can do what they like with you. You squirm, aroused and desperate. Your backside is on fire and you can still feel the heat radiate off of the stinging flesh where the crop bit into you.

Lee enters your vision, skirting around the side of the furniture, holding the crop he now liberated from Hickey and brandishing it menacingly. Your stomach flutters when he disappears from view again but you can feel his presence behind you.

He lashes out, a violent blow landing across both cheeks and jerks your entire body. You moan, part in pain, part in pleasure. That was much harder than Hickey did and you can feel the bite of the leather all the way down your legs, but it felt incredibly good. All that would make it complete would be him to place his hands on you, intimately, to stroke your swollen and ready mound while he did this would be blissful.

‘More?’ Charles enquires.

You can only nod mutely. Yes you want more but you are afraid just how much more you want, and how much more he would be willing to dish out. He seems an expert at this, Hickey had only been and amateur, playing with you.

A softer tap catches the outer lips of your pussy and you cry out in shock, fingers curling against the edge of the table. When the tip of the crop probes between your wet folds, threatening to penetrate you push back greedily, looking for more stimulation. Lee chuckles and pulls away again, laughing harder at your disappointed moan, with a firm whack of the crop for good measure.

Charles lets forth a volley of slaps from the crop across your arse. It seems to go on forever, with barely a pause between. Your breath hitches with each impact until you don’t have any left. When he stops you sag in relief, body loosening after being a tightly coiled bundle of tension. Your backside stings like hell, every never raw.

Panting heavily, you gasp for breath and find that you are not the only one. Lee’s breath is hot and heavy behind you. He clearly exerted himself with that little bit of punishment.

You hiss lowly as a cool palm presses firmly against your abused backside. You wiggle at the contact relishing the slight sting, wondering if he has broken the skin and if you have a lovely pattern of criss crossed pink stripes across your arse.

Hands retreat and Charles appears in your eye line, grinning widely.

'Enjoying yourself?'  He enquires in an artificially polite tone.

You whimper in response. Yes but you would be enjoying it a whole lot more if he would let you cum.

‘I think you have had enough for now.’ He muses.

You think so too, maybe next time, hopefully there will be a next time, and Charles can help you explore just how pleasurable his punishments can be.  If he would maybe let you touch yourself whilst doing that…you would be cumming within minutes.

Blood still rushing in your ears, there are faint mumblings from behind you. You wonder what they are talking about and stomach flutters excitedly at what could be coming next. You are sincerely hoping that it is sex, you couldn’t stand any more teasing. Every muscle is practically humming in need and you know without a shadow of a doubt between your legs is sopping wet.

‘Let’s move on.’ Charles says but he sounds far away, definitely a way behind you. That’s why you startle as large male hands grab your hips firmly.

The solid caress of warm, velvety erection presses between your legs and you part them just a little more to welcome them. There is a low groan when the tip connects with the dripping wetness between your legs and you can tell from the slightest breath that it is William who is there, ready to take you.

Charles wanders to the other side of the table just in front of you and you roll eyes up to meet his. He is watching you smugly and you briefly wonder why he is watching your and Johnsons face when he could be behind you watching his plundering of your body. You can’t continue to watch Charles intense gaze as soon your eyes flutter closed when William pushes his hips forwards relentlessly.

Your overly aroused body welcomes Johnson greedily, pulling him deeply with a cry of immense satisfaction.

Hands leave your hips, bracing instead just beside your head on the table. William presses himself flush against your body, curling around you until his lips meet your cheek, giving you small butterfly kisses across your skin. His hips are barely moving, but you are practically twitching around him, trying to buck against him for more stimulation.

'You alright?' His voice is soft, low, only you would be able to hear him. His lips caress your earlobe and you shiver.

You mumble a barely coherent yes, wiggling your hips backwards. Johnson chuckles in response, lips returning to animate exploration of your neck and jaw line. Hips thrust more firmly, angling in just a way to draw pleasure deep within you and you groan in pleasure.

Charles voice startles you from the wonderfully distracting Johnson, it is a low warning.

'William.' He remonstrates. 'Do not let her cum.'

You hear Johnson’s disgusted huff as he pulls back from kissing you, hands firmly grasping your hips again, his own body takes on a faster, jerking motion.

You whimper lowly, pushing your own hips back to meet his thrust until the slap of your bodies joining echoes in the room. Soft cries issue from your throat as the relentless drive of Williams cock back and forth steamrollers your already tingling body towards the edge.

Lee gives you a look, voice authoritative as he says, ‘Stop it and lay still girl.’

You pay him not attention; you couldn’t stay still even if you tried. You are so close, and the feeling is too good. Williams cock is thrusting over just the right spot and you have been teased far too much already to hold back.

You don’t meet Charles’s gaze but you hear the growl from his throat.

‘Bill, hold her down.’

Johnson mumbles something under his breath, sighing heavily. His hips slow, he is barely moving inside of you and your orgasm ebbs away. You scream in frustration, this is too much.

Lee smirks at you, knowing how close you were and denying you the ultimate pleasure again. This is the second time he has done that and now it’s confirmed that he is doing it on purpose. It is part of his torture.

The Templar behind you places a large hand at the small of your back, leaning his weight downwards and pinning you effectively to the table top.

You are trapped, unable to move, not even wiggle a just a little, firmly pressed between Williams’s hard body and the even harder table top. The man behind you shifts, changing the angle of his hips and begins a slow and steady thrusting motion.

Groaning in dissatisfaction, this won’t do, not at all. His pace is too even, too controlled. William is at all the wrong angle, although the brush of thick hard cock is certainly enticing, he is missing any sort of sweet spot and you can’t move against him to get a position you like.

Fingers tighten against your skin, Johnson’s breath is coming heavier, hips not quite as rhythmic as before. Panting, you moan in frustration, fixing Lee with a longing gaze, silently begging him to give you something more. You won’t come like this, it’s not enough and that is _exactly_ his plan.

You feel William tremble after what felt like an age of slow delicious torture. Your body hovering on the brink of release and being constantly denied. Hot breath rushes against the back of your neck and you feel him spasm inside of you, releasing his own orgasm into your body. He kisses your cheek and withdraws, the loss of warmth of his body and his cock inside of you a shock that leaves you shivering.

‘Hickey?’ Charles purrs.

Oh god. Johnson is replaced by a much different feeling and smelling man. Thomas does exactly the same thing. His entry is slow, finally burying himself sheath inside of you until the fine hairs on his belly tickle the sensitive flesh of your cropped backside.

You are forced to lie and suffer his teasing actions too. They are masturbating with your body, there is no other way to describe it, making sure you are just inches away from experiencing an intense orgasm but just holding back enough to deny you.

Hickeys pace inside you is slow and leisurely. He keeps your body pinned, fingers digging in tightly to your skin but that is the least of your concerns right now.

You lie there moaning and panting, clenching your inner walls tightly in the hope that the feeling will stimulate you and push you over the edge. But you know it is futile, something is missing, some touch, some angle…something. You are pretty sure if Charles scrapped your clit with his finger right now it would be enough to leaving you screaming in release but this is his game.

You have a hard time forming coherent thoughts as Thomas groans with a final deep thrust and pulls back and you are left feeling a warm trickle between your legs. God, you must be in a mess, hair plastered to your face, body shivering and sweating, arse red and sore with their seed leaking out of you. You can barely keep your eyes open and Charles is viewing you with unadulterated glee. Smug bastard, you think. You lick your lips as his hand drops to his crotch, stroking the obvious hardness through his breeches. He has been enjoying himself, this was his fantasy, just like William got his earlier but it needs to end soon or it will drive you insane.

Charles loosens the buttons at the front of his trousers, hand sliding inside to twist his cock free. It strains against the fabric, red and swollen, a clear trickle of pre-cum making the tip glisten. He fists himself, slowly and lazily running his tight palm up and down his shaft. You watch fascinated, aroused body practically twitching for it.

‘One more my dear. Then I will think about letting you cum.’

You shake your head, no, you can’t possibly. You don’t think you can do it again or take much more of this teasing. Your body aches from its forced position, your clit is humming all on its own, begging for just a little more. The tightly coiled build up between your legs feels heavy and uncomfortable and you desperately need to cum. That is all that matters. All you can think about.

Just like Thomas and William, Charles enters you teasingly slowly, holding you still so that you can’t move against him. His pace is agonisingly measured and controlled, a steady even rhythm of his hips. There is no resistance left in your body, between your legs feels swollen and aches. The pressure deep in your groin, almost unbearable.

You gasp and moan, eyes rolling back in your head and you are pretty sure there is a small line of droll currently falling onto Charles paper work.

‘Beg me.’ His voice commands as he thrust deeps, balls slapping against you.

‘Please.’ Your voice is barely audible to yourself, you vaguely wonder if Charles even heard it.

‘Convince me you deserve it.’ He mocks.

‘Let me cum, _please_.’

Charles releases with a deep feral moan, fingers twisting in your skin and you let out a choking gasp of pain. You thought he would finish you if you begged nicely but he pulls out, cock softening as the cooler air torments your sensitive flesh between your legs. You practically sob in dissatisfaction.

The pressure between your legs is insufferable and your knees shake in effort to keep upright, most of your weight is now being held by the table. Your limbs feel detached from the rest of your body, sluggish and heavy and you are not sure you can even move.

Lee’s voice is breathy behind you, panting from his exertion and groggy from his own orgasm. But there is still the underlying hint of smugness that he has broken you.

‘Alright go ahead you can come.’

You try and swallow, tongue dry and heavy from moaning and screaming in pleasure and frustration. You wait for him to say something else. You half expect him to laugh and change his mind and torture you some more.

‘Go on. You can touch yourself.’

Your hands feel shaky as you managed to wriggle them between your body and the table top, shoulders aching from being stretched above your head. Fingers slip across your sensitive clit easily, finding that you are soaking from a mixture of your cum and theirs. As a fingertip circles the hard nub you almost cry out in agony. God that is too much, the tension is too high and your body aches.

Tentatively you softly circle the little bundle of nerves, parting your legs a little wider to accommodate your bound wrists.

A few strokes has a wave of almost painful pleasure rippling from your clit, and you let out a deep moan. Your clit tingles, buzzing in its pleasure. The haze fogging your mind clears a little, breath still ragged but something is wrong. The orgasm had only been minimally satisfying, releasing some of the pent up tension in your body but a heavier weight is still nestled deep in your abdomen. You can feel it lurking there still, your aroused body desperate for something else, a more intensely satisfying release.

You sigh in frustration, this is Charles fault. He has kept you on the brink for hours, teasing your body and denying you just at the last moment. And now that one little ripple of self-gratification was not enough to slack the lust that had been built in your body.

Your fingers continue of your clit desperately seeking another release hoping that it will be more intense and pleasurable than the last. Unable to keep your legs straight, you sink off of the table and onto the floor.

On your knees, backside in the air and cheek against the carpet, you quiver in frustration as your fingers continue to dance on your body. It’s not working; you are so close but that final orgasm from deep within you refuses to peak. Too tired, too frustrated, too angry, your clit desensitised to all the stimulation that it has had.

Gasping for breath you just manage to make out Charles kneeling down beside you.

‘Would you like some help?’ He is smirking at you and you want to punch him, if you had the energy.

He runs a palm over your arse, stroking the still stinging skin. He glances at the other Templars recovering in their seats and drinking his wine.

‘Are any of you in any state to…?’

He trails off and the small sigh lets you know William and Thomas must have said no. They have just had their orgasm and are in no state just yet to go for round two.

Charles scoots closer to your exposed rump. You are not sure what he is going to do but if he can’t fuck you then you don’t really see the point. He should have let you come when he did, then you wouldn’t have this painful teetering on the brink feeling in your body that you can’t satisfy.

‘I’ll make sure you get an inordinate amount of pleasure once I am fully recovered but for now…’

He slides the first two digits of his right hand into your warm depths as deep as his knuckles will allow and one finger of his other hand into your arse. Your back arches, a cry issuing from low in your throat.

Yesssssss. You brain hisses in pleasure. That was good. That is what you need.

Lee curls his fingers, rubbing along your inner walls in firm stroking motions. His fingers pump gently in and out, curling in just the right way that the brushes along a sensitive bit on the front wall of your pussy and leaves you wriggling and pushing back for more.

Yes, this is better. Whether it was simply that fact that you were being pleasured by hands other than your own, or the added stimulation of penetration you knew this orgasm would be significantly more satisfying.

You feel warm breath tickle along your skin, the slightest brush of hair along his top lip as Lee bends forwards and sinks his teeth firmly into a soft fleshy part of your arse. Simultaneously he slides a third finger into your cunt and a second in your arse and that is more than enough you have you crying out hoarsely as the tightly coiled knot deep in your stomach exploded with a tidal wave of rippling pleasure, shaking every muscle in your body and leaves you collapsed and twitching on the floor. You can’t focus, eyes rolling as every muscle in your body shakes, bearing down on the invading digits and spasaming uncontrollably.

Not caring that you are sprawled open legged on the floor, you could happily lie here and fall right asleep as Charles extracts his fingers from your sore, swollen flesh and gets to his feet.

Moving was a challenge, your brain doesn’t feel connected to any of your limbs but you just manage to roll ono your back, staring up at the intricate carved ceiling.

Charles kneels back down, almost covering your body with his. A small grin plays along his lips; those intense eyes are still focused fully on you. He leans over and gives you a passionate kiss and unties your hands. You rub the small indents in your wrists where the leather bit into your skin.

‘Feeling better now?’

You only nod, sleepy and exhausted and completely spent after the intensity of it all. That is probably the most extreme orgasm you have ever had, but you wouldn’t want to be doing that to your body every day, you are not sure you could handle it.

‘I have a room and bed ready for you if you would like.’ Lee strokes your sweat damp hair out your face.

You shake your head, you _are_ practically falling asleep, but you don’t want to leave them, not just yet. You want to spend some time in their company, just to be near them for a little while. You will go to bed later.

Charles smiles, scooping you up off the floor and moving towards the table where Johnson and Hickey have arranged for their poker evening, cards and drink at the ready but you are not really interested in the cards, you got more than you came for. Maybe you will just sit and recover and watch them play a while before going to bed.

‘Alright.’ He soothes. ‘I’ll get you something to drink and a little food if you are hungry.’

Charles smirks, that smug, self-satisfying grin that used to irritate you but you are actually now becoming to like. ‘And maybe a salve your that pretty pink backside?’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grandmaster arrives, better late than never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos. I love playing with these Templars and I'm glad you are all still enjoying it too. Still wondering how to work Shay into the mix coz well, he is damned hot and I need a chapter with some sexy Irish stud muffin smut. I may start a separate fic because I kind of want to play with Gist and Munro too.

 

The Templars continue their game of cards as normal. To be honest you have pretty much lost any interest in playing, you have what you came for and so much more on top of that, and are currently happily dozing in a state of unadulterated post -orgasm bliss. Every muscle has a pleasurable achy quality and your backside still stings a little from Charles Lee’s crop. You will certainly be remembering the fun from today for a while to come.

As the late evening draws onto night, Lee wants to tuck you up in bed and let you recover from the rather energetic bout of sex from earlier, but you decline, happy to spend some time in their company, after all, you at least want to make it look like you went not only after them for sex. The boys do not seem inclined to let you go anyway, satisfied that they are not boring you with their usual poker night.

You find yourself curled on the floor at Charles feet, almost naked. William had wrapped a tartan cape thing around you. You are not sure exactly what it is but he usually wears it tied around his waist and pinned across one shoulder. It is not really cold in the room but you didn’t bother getting dressed, too happy and lethargic from the intense sex. It smells of him and it’s nice to snuggle around the soft fabric.

Head cradled in Lee's lap, you listen to the men play their game, mumbling about their business and laughing in deep masculine chuckles. You doze, not really paying attention, it is just pretty noise.

Charles has taken to stroking your hair, tickling just behind your ear in an abstractedly detached way as if you are a large house cat. Every so often he'll lower a glass from the table to let you sip sleepily from it, and will feed you little morsels of food from his fingertips; cheese, grapes, something spicy you can’t quite identify. You are not really hungry but accept the gesture of comfort from him. You did deliciously taste chocolate at one point as the Templar popped the sweet gooey treat between your lips. You spent a good few minutes sucking the last lingering sugary taste from his fingertips. There was a definite hardening under your cheek as your tongue swirled wetly across his skin.

Charles let out a shake breath at your actions, watching you with amused but hungry eyes. The front of his breeches strains but he made no move to push things further, instead, tucking your head back on his lap and resumes brushing the hair delicately out your face while he continues playing cards with Johnson and Hickey.

'Go back to sleep.' He croons softly. So you snuggle back into a comfortable position, thankful that although recovered, Lee doesn't want to go at it again. You are exhausted after earlier and are not sure your body could face more sex, just yet. You will happily lie here playing Charles’ little lap dog, if he just continues pleasurably  stroking you like a god damn pet and feeding you little sips of wine when you want it.

The soft murmuring of male voices is quite soothing and you find yourself dozing off again, sated and satisfied.  


 

You are unceremoniously lifted to your feet and you moan in protest. Eyelids heavy and half closed, you notice that the lights have been dimmed in the room. From what you can see, it is pitch black outside from the dark windows.

You groan as your aching body is forced to move, you had been dammed comfy and almost asleep in Lee’s lap.

There is an amused chuckle beside you as a deep male voice murmurs 'time for bed,' and half escorts, half carries you upstairs. Your legs still feel heavy and stumble slightly as you tiredly make your way, but a firm arm around your back is cradling you against a warm, broad chest.

You realise that you have never seen most of Charles Lee’s home, and should probably be paying more attention to where you are being taken, but are just too tired to care. You really should have let the Templar put you to bed a while ago.

A heavy wooden door swings open and you are ushered inside. A surprising wall of warm, wet, heat engulfs you, so much so that you almost find it hard to take a breath. The air in the room is heavy and damp and begins to cling to your skin. Prying your tired eyes open, you have been led into a large bathroom. The white tub is huge, with wide rolling top and is already filled with hot water, steaming rising off the surface gently and clouding the room. The humid air causes a bead of sweat to trickle down your back, but you instantly begin to feel clean.

Hands gently steer you closer to the bath, removing William’s cape form your shoulders and turning you around until you are sitting on the edge of the tub. As much as you want to sleep, a nice warm bath seems like a good idea, you dread to think what you smell like, your hair must be a mess and you have not only your own, but three men’s fluids drying onto your skin.

Groggily you try to focus, expecting Charles to be smirking at you in his bathroom, but you are shocked to find the Grandmaster closing the door and removing his hat and jacket.  He gives you a small smirk as you stare at him in shock.

'Haytham? Where have you been!?' You had missed him earlier, it just wasn’t the same without that arrogant refined drawl teasing and cool grey eyes appraising you.

He looks dusty, dishevelled. There is mud coating his boots and dark hair flecked with wisps of grey is escaping the loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. His jaw is darkly lined with stubble and you have a sudden overwhelming urge to rub against it.

Haytham's lips quirk, eyes crinkling in pleasure, as he shirks out his long coat and waistcoat.

You can tell that he is pleased to see you too; his pride satisfied that you missed his presence.

'I apologise my dear, I had pressing business in Boston and have only just arrived. It is certainly not safe to be riding in the dark, but I wanted to see you.'

His waistcoat comes off slowly as does his shirt, revealing a vast expanse of pale, toned muscle. He is an appealing sight in nothing but loose cream coloured britches, and despite how tired and abused your body is, it responds automatically.

'I have missed you.' His voice is rich, deep, and it tightens things low in your groin. He practically caresses you with it and his confession only adds to its potency.

Long fingers hook into the waistband of his trousers and slide downwards, exposing smooth hard skin. He is all sculpted muscle, broad shoulders and lean hips. Hair dusts his chest, tapering down towards his navel, widening as it reaches his public bone and you want to do nothing but lick him from groin to chin.

The Grandmaster stalks towards you, already hard and ready, erection jutting out impressively between his legs.  You reach for him automatically, pulling him closer into your arms. His mouth is suddenly on you, soft, needy, kisses probing against your tongue. Breath comes hot against your skin as Haytham pulls back just enough to nip along your jawline and neck, murmuring between passionate kisses of how much he missed this.

Large male hands slip to your waist, kneading your flesh gently, but you want him lower, those strong thick fingers pressing deliciously against more intimate areas. His desire for you is sparking your own interest again and you arch against his body, wanting more press of warm skin on skin.

Skimming down across his stomach, you reach lower, palming his erection. Wrapping your fingers snuggly around him, you gently squeeze Haytham’s cock until the Templar groans longingly against your neck.

His lips caress the big pulse point in your throat and he flicks, a firm swipe of his tongue, and you would have sworn that it was between your legs. Gasping, you press your naked body fully against his, relishing the feel of him, rubbing against his like a cat panting in heat.

Carefully, Haytham detracts himself from your hand, and you are disappointed when his body is no longer tightly pressed against yours. Wiggling, you try and edge closer to the Templar but he chuckles deeply, keeping you at arm’s length. Glancing at his face, those grey eyes are dilated and hooded, he is definitely aroused but holding back.

‘Perhaps later. It has been a long journey and I need to get cleaned up. I would have thought you had enough for this evening also.’ He teases.

You sigh lowly in disappointment; you supposed the Grandmaster has a point. It has been a very eventful evening, and you could really do with getting cleaned up before bed too. But did that really have to mean he wouldn’t be having sex with you.

‘Join me.' Haytham purrs as he moves closer to the water.

You give a lingering look at his straining cock as he turns away. You _had_ needed sleep, but the sudden arrival of Haytham all hard and eager for you, it had given you a renewed burst of energy and you pout at him.

He chuckles, sliding gently into the bath and wrapping a big arm around your waist. Haytham drags you in to the tub with him, sinking into the almost too-warm water, back cradled against his chest and his groin cupping your arse. The water caresses just below your breasts and had been made on the near scalding side, you can already feel your skin turning pink in the heat.

This won’t do at all, you think, as to press against the warmth of his skin, there is no way you can keep your hands off Haytham. Wriggling against the stiffness pressed tight against your backside you try to entice him, rotating your hips so that the soft flesh of your backside rubs against his cock.

Haytham hisses, arm tightening across your waist to attempt to still your movements.

'Behave yourself, wench.' He rumbles playfully in your ear. Even as he does so those soft lips caress the outer shell of your ear and it just makes you writhe all the more.

'I think we both need a soaking and a few hours’ sleep before this continues.'

He probably has a point, but it is hard to focus on anything but him hard and ready and so close.

You stretch languorously, dozing in his arms and cradled by his body as you begin to relax in the lovely warm water.

Haytham contents himself with exploring your neck and shoulders with his lips, his hands roaming your body as he washes you gently, sensuously, rubbing fruit scented soap bubbles into your skin. You sigh contentedly, _this_ is blissful.

As the Grandmasters hands dip below the water to wash rather intimate areas, the tingling feeling is back between your legs; your impatient desire rears again having been denied and it is not entirely ready to go without a fight. You writhe and gasp against the Templar as he parts the folds of your pussy and warm caressing water laps between your legs.

Moaning in pleasure, you crane your neck back, seeking a kiss, and Haytham obliges you. As you distract him with your mouth, you sneak and hand between your bodies, closing around his straining cock and rubbing firmly in an effort to entice him to go further. But Haytham’s will power is stronger than you expected and he doesn't give in.

After ensuring you are both thoroughly clean and a quick wash of your hair, the Grandmaster is ready to get out and you nearly sigh disappointedly.

Helping you out of the water, he soon has you wrapped in a large fluffy towel. The bath has been more welcome than you expected, you feel clean and light again and the heat has made you sleepy. However, this doesn’t stop you having fun watching the man drying off in front of you. Water droplets cling to Haytham’s torso, running in meandering rivulets down his body and you relish tracing their path as they glide over his skin. His excitement has cooled somewhat, cock only half hard as he takes time drying himself. You watch, fascinatedly, as the white cotton towel rubs back and forth across Haytham’s chest and down his stomach. You lick your lips following his movements, hungrily, and the Grandmaster chuckles at your approving look, discarding his towel eventually and standing gloriously naked. You find yourself fascinated by the little hollows at his hip bones, the curve of his neck, the broadness of his chest compared with his hips. He is such an appealing sight.

Clean clothes, almost identical to the ones the Templar had on, are folded and sitting next to the pile of dirty laundry. You suddenly realise, sheepishly, that your own clothing was discarded downstairs and you don’t have anything to put on.

Haytham pulls on trousers, leaving the top enticingly open, exposing a little triangle of flesh and just a hint of pubic hair. It really isn’t fair, you think. If he doesn’t want sex right now he shouldn’t tease you so.

Haytham hands you his clean shirt and pulls on the dirty one himself. The garment is far too big for you, it pools under your arms and billows around your body, eventually hitting you mid-thigh. The Grandmaster gives you an appraising look standing there in his clothing, the heat in his eyes indicates that he is sorely tempted to forgo sleep and just move right onto sex after all. That would be totally fine with you judging by the heat pooling between your legs and strain of your nipples against the soft cotton fabric of shirt.

Padding barefoot out of the bathroom, Haytham tucks you under his arm, steering you in the right direction. It would seem that he knows his way around Charles Lee's home well.

Speaking of which, the master of the house is approaching you in the hallway with another man you have never met. You have a moment of embarrassment, half naked, hair wet, in the company of an equally half-dressed man, and being led towards that man's bedroom is perhaps not how you would want to be introduced to any of the other Templars.

Charles and the stranger barely give you a glance and keep walking past the pair of you, nodding reverently to the Grandmaster in doing so.

'Your clothes will be laundered and ready for tomorrow, Sir.' Lee addresses Haytham.

'Yours too, Miss. They will be ready and your room first thing.'

That surprised you but you don’t get a chance to say thank you to Lee as both men keep walking, probably heading to their own respective bedrooms. You idly wonder what happened to Hickey and Johnson, are they still here?

There is something familiar about the other man who had been in Charles company. Long dark hair tied back, tall, broad shoulders…you turn and watch the retreating backs of Lee and the dark stranger down the hallway. Glancing back at Haytham, he raises an amused eyebrow at your staring. You hope he wasn't jealous.

'See something you like?' He enquires teasingly.

Shaking your head you glance back down the hall, trying to think of where you know him from, but the other Templars have disappeared around the corner.  

'You know, it’s very bad manners to be fantasising about boyfriend one when currently with boyfriend two.' Voice playful, Haytham is only teasing and you shake your head, smiling at him.

‘Who’s the new one?'

'A new recruit actually. His name is Shay Cormac. He is very impressive, former assassin as it happens; I think he will do well.'

Frowning, you still can’t quite place the man, you don’t recognise the name. 'He...seems familiar.'

Haytham raises his eyebrows surprised, and all of a sudden much more interested.

'You know him?' He asks seriously.

Perhaps the Grandmaster is thinking something is wrong with the new recruit and Shay is not being entirely truthful. You are not sure. You would say it is more a feeling of similarity, of reminding, rather than knowing. The clothing is familiar, strong jawline, dark hair, the build of his body... almost similar to…Haytham.

That's it, he reminds you of the Grandmaster.

'It's you.' You murmur as you are lead to a heavy wooden door.

'I beg your pardon?'  Haytham seems confused.

'He reminds me of you a little, that's probably what I was thinking of.'

Haytham’s lip quirks into a small smile. He seems pleased. You are not sure whether it's simply flattery at being compared to a much younger man, or whether he really genuinely liked Shay and was glad to be found similar to him.

'You sure he's not an estranged son from a dalliance in your youth?' You playfully tease the Templar as you head into the bedroom.

'Well...'

Pausing, shocked, you turn to face Haytham who gives you a devilish smirk, cool grey eyes twinkling in mischief. He had been playing with you.

'I am confident that Shay is of absolutely no relation.’

There is a brief pause in hesitation whether to continue and the Grandmasters voice becomes more serious.

‘Although I do have a son apparently…somewhere.'

He opens a heavy, dark wooden door, and ushers you into a spacious, generously furnished bedroom.

'Somewhere?'  You enquire, a little stunned at the fact.

'I have never met the boy. His mother and I did not part under the best circumstances. She has made it very clear that my input is neither wanted nor necessary.'

You give Haytham your apologies, which he shakes off quickly. It seems a sore topic that he doesn't want to dwell on. The confession has shocked you though. You had been having so much fun but you now realise that you do not know these men particularly well. Outside of the order, and the work they do, their private lives are a mystery. Although you can't really fault Haytham for not mentioning illegitimate children, he didn't offer, but then again, until now, you had never bothered asking.

The Grandmaster closes the bedroom door firmly, tugging his shirt up and over his head as he steps further into the room behind you. The loosened breeches follow quickly, leaving him naked and beautiful. He pulls you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around your back and drawing you impossibly close.

'Put it from your mind.' He whispers as his lips are on you, tongue slowly and languidly massaging your own. Suddenly nothing really matters other than the feel and taste and warmth of him. Rubbing along the front of Haytham’s toned body, you moan into his mouth, shivering in excitement as a warm weight pools between your legs.

Pulling away, Haytham leaves you panting and clutching at him before giving you an easy smile. 'Bed time.'

Your own returning grin was sensual. 'Thought you would never ask.'

He chuckles at your suggestiveness. 'To sleep. We have both had a long day; I gather that you quite exerted yourself earlier. A few hours rest would be appreciated all around I think.'

You raise an eyebrow, glancing significantly down at his erection that had returned with vengeance.

Haytham only laughs and saunters over towards the bed, pulling back crisp white sheets and crawling into it, he gives you an enticing view of the defined curve of his backside before disappearing under the covers.

'I mean it behave yourself girl.'

How can you possibly contemplate behaving when he looks so delicious naked, damp hair fanned out on the bed and sheet now clinging to his body barely covering his nakedness? Under there he is hard and ready for you, and you lick you lips in desire.

Grabbing the hem of the borrowed shirt, you raise it slowly up your thighs and hips, making sure the fabric caresses your breasts, revealing them slowly, before tossing it aside to cover the pile of clothing Haytham left.

The Templars eyes darken, watching you with interest as you sway your hips as you approach the bed. You slide in beside him and he growls low in his throat.

'Tease.' He purrs playfully as you press against him, giving him a deep kiss.

Haytham pins you in his strong arms, spooning against your back. You try and wriggle, pushing the curve of your arse against his groin. He nuzzles the back of your neck, soft kisses tickling. A large, muscular, forearm tightens around your stomach, pinning you against his hard body and preventing more movement.

'Go to sleep you.'

You angle your head back for a kiss which he grants happily. There is no way you will be able to sleep, not with his warm, clean smelling body so close, and not with the enticing erection nudging between your legs. You have no idea how the Grandmaster could sleep like this either or even contemplate it. Surely a quickie would release some of that tension and get him to sleep faster?

Warm breath tickles along your shoulder, and you lie there frustrated and aroused. No matter how tired you had been after Charles was finished with you, that has been pushed aside in favour of another round of intense love making with your favourite Templar.

Haytham’s breathing soon takes on a deep, rhythmic timbre, his body relaxes, arm lying heavy across your waist as he drifts off to sleep.

You lie in the dark panting in need. You have missed the imposing Grandmaster and now that his warm, spicy smelling, body is wrapped around you, you want him. Your eyes slip closed, breathing deeply the scent of him, needing those strong, rough hands, caressing your naked body. You can practically feel that way his palms caress you flesh, lips at the hollow of your throat…

 

 

 

 

Your eyes flutter open as you feel Haytham gently nuzzling the back of your neck. Lips tickle along your skin, and his tongue slides enticingly across your shoulder. Open mouthed kisses cause goosebumps to shiver across your flesh. Giggling, you snuggle back against the intensely warm hardness of his body. An even hotter spear of velvety cock pushes against your arse and causes all the muscles south of your belly button to flutter in want. Rubbing back and forth you caress it between your cheeks.

You grin as the Grandmaster pushes back urgently, you knew that he wouldn't be able to resist.

'Good morning.' He murmurs deeply.

Wait. Morning? Your eyes fully open and you glance over your shoulder to meet the Grandmasters relaxed, sleepy, face. Light seeps out from the edges of the closed shutters in the room, but it is definitely daylight outside. You hadn't even realised that you had fallen asleep.

'I think we got a few hours.' Haytham murmurs, as he pulls you tighter into his embrace, muscled chest pressing hard against your back and lips ghosting over your bare skin.

You wiggle your hips to hear that delicious low masculine groan. Haytham buries that substantial nose in the back of your neck, kisses and little puffs of warm breath causing shivers all the way down your spine. Lips trail lightly across your bare shoulder, tongue flicking out against your skin. As you turn in his arms to face him, the Templar smoothly rolls on top of you, bracing his weight up on forearms, lower body fitting snugly between your parted legs.

His mouth finds yours, tongue slow dancing with your own. Taking a few moments to lazily explore your mouth, the Grandmaster skims his lips across your jaw, neck and breasts lightly, on a path downwards.

Quivering in anticipation, you know exactly where he is going as he circles your navel with his tongue. You giggle at his grin and wink, those grey eyes twinkling in humour as Haytham disappears from view under the covers.

Small puffs of warm breath tickle your pubic hair and your giggles soon turn into low aroused gasps as his mouth delves into your sex. Your hips arch wildly off of the bed at the sensation and soon the Grandmaster has large hands wrapped around your hips holding you down. His tongue traces every inch, dipping inside to taste the arousal from your body. It dances across your clit, lapping and sucking in just the right way to leave you incoherent, moaning for more and shaky fingers tangling tightly in the bedding. Not being able to see him heightens the sensation, every touch an unexpected caress. That talented mouth soon has you crying out and writhing under him, inner muscles rippling in gratification as a gentle morning orgasm rolls over you.

Panting, you watch lazily as Haytham emerges from under the covers, pupil’s dilated and dark hair a mess. You laugh at the state of the usually proper Grandmaster looking thoroughly shagged. He gives you his usual self-satisfied smirk, eyes hungry, as he crawls back up to lie prone across you. You wrap your arms around him, fingers playing across defined shoulder and back muscles encouraging him closer to nestle snugly between your thighs; his skin is remarkably soft and so warm under your touch.

He kisses you, mouth cool, and you taste the slightly tangy saltiness from your body. Haytham bucks, hips pushing his erection between your legs and he slips back and forth in the wet click. His cock bumps against your clit and brushes enticingly past your opening each time. He is teasing you, and himself.

He fails to penetrate you again and you whine in response.

'Ugh, stop teasing.'

You can see a small smirk grace the Templars lips as he silences your protests with his mouth.

Fingernails rake down the strong muscles Haytham’s arms as he does it again, hips grinding against you and your cries lost against his probing tongue. Your hips angle upwards, trying to manoeuvre him to exactly where you want, where you need. You wriggle desperately under him, the fine hairs on his chest and stomach tickling along your skin, heightening the sensation to a painful point. Haytham chuckles as you push up against him, trying to impale yourself.

 'Would you like me to call anyone else?' He breathes lowly in your ear.

You shake your head, raising your hips to try and end the teasing, but his cock continues rubbing back and forth, never quite making that last move to slide home.

'You sure?' Charles or Bill or Tom could be here in an instant. I’m positive they wouldn’t mind being invited to pleasure you.'

You moan against him, rubbing along his body and trying to pull him closer with your legs, squeezing your thighs around his hips. It’s tempting, but they had their fun last night, you want some alone time with the Grandmaster.

'No, please, just you.'

It's what he's been waiting for. A shift of his hips and you are biting back a moan of pleasure as Haytham’s aching morning erection sinks into you with a low satisfied groan. Wrapping legs around his waist, you curl your body around him as much as possible, savouring the feel of his warm delicious smelling presence so close.

Haytham sets a gentle, still half asleep pace, rocking into you with steady rhythm. Your body clenches rhythmically around him, drawing low groans from him as his breath comes hot and heavy against your ear. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the warm, male smell of him. Lips caress the side of your neck sending little jolts of pleasure cascading down your body. His chest scrapes across your nipples, they tingle from the sensation. You encourage Haytham with excited little moans, running your tongue along his earlobe. He seems to enjoy it when you breathe his name lowly in his ear, a small shiver running down his spine.

Soon his hips loose rhythm, bucking into you fiercely, tearing squeals of delight from your throat as the Grandmaster kneels a little higher on the bed and braces one of your legs up against his shoulder. It's incredibly deep from this angle; your body tightens increasingly around him, back arching in pleasure as he drives deeper, strong hips unrelenting.

Haytham shudders, eyes tightly closed and you know that he is approaching his own release. You sneak a hand down between your legs, circling your wet clit in short steady strokes as his body thuds into you with a wonderful jerking roughness.

Haytham stills, breath caught in his throat. You can feel the quiver in his body as he releases and you are not long behind him, sweating and shaking and crying out loud enough to wake the household as your body clenches tight around his pulsing cock.

With a final lingering kiss, his spent body is heavy resting against you and Haytham soon has to roll to the side to prevent crushing you under him. He lies beside you, chest heaving and glistening in sweat. Curling up against him, snuggling against the warmth of his body, the Grandmaster tucks you under his chin, placing soft kisses against your hair. You are content to snooze for a time, comfy and sated, trailing little patters across his chest with your fingertips. Your fingertips brush the side of his pectoral muscle and there is the faintest laugh under you. You gaze up at him, wide eyed. Haytham gives you a stern look obviously knowing what you are up to. So the uptight grandmaster appears ticklish? You quickly jam your fingers into his sides before he can mount a defence. Haytham tries to wiggle away from your tickling, but you follow, rising up on your knees and swinging a leg over to straddle his waist. He is laughing deeply as his body jerks under you as you tickle his sides.

Haytham tries to sound stern and inflict some of that usual imposing tone in between giggles.  'Stop that right now.'

But you are having too much fun listening to the sound of deep male laughter; his face seems much more relaxed.

'Behave yourself girl.' He chokes out between laughs. He tries in vain to grab your hands to halt your movements but you have too much leverage, so decides to use a different tack, large palms rise up and engulf your breasts, thumb massaging your sensitive nipples.  Haytham tugs you downwards to suck one into his mouth. Your own laughter turns to low excited moaning, fingers letting up the torture of him as his tongue _flicks_. Shuddering above him in sensation, you can feel the Grandmasters wry grin against your flesh.

 A flush soon starts at your head and sweeps down your body as excitement fills you. Bucking across his groin, you rub yourself against the Templar, trying to ease the building pleasure that he is causing with his mouth.

Just then the door opens and your breath hitches in your throat in surprise. Haytham releases your breasts with an almost audible pop as a tall, darkly dressed, figure glides into the room, knocking only briefly and clearly not looking where he was going.

'Grandmaster, Sir, I-' The strong Irish voice stops mid-sentence as he raises his head and comes across you perched naked on top of an equally naked Haytham.

'I-ugh.’ His eyes are wide as he stutters.

'I'm terribly sorry, Sir.' Shay manages to stutter out, face turning a violent shade of pink as he turns his back a quickly and flees out the room.

'I'll await you downstairs.' He calls over his shoulder, shutting the door with a thud behind him.

You turn, rather shocked, back to Haytham but his lips are pressed tightly together trying to contain his amusement. 

‘I think we gave poor Shay quite an eyeful.' He murmurs sardonically and you laugh in response.

Haytham sighs wearily. 'I'll need to get ready and go.'

Oh. You are incredibly disappointed. You had been looking forward to spend the day with the Grandmaster if possible, hoping that this would not just be an evening affair. He must have seen the disappointment on your face and rubs his palms comfortingly across the bare flesh of your hips.

‘Im sorry but duty calls. I will make it up you though.'

He gives you a final soft kiss and slides out from between your legs. You sigh and pout at him as you stretch out on the bed enough for a low groan to escape. After yesterday and this morning everything hurts, but in and really enjoyable way that will remind you of the fun you had for the next few days as you fully recover. Rolling onto your back you gasp, glancing over your shoulder as the Grandmaster places another gentle kiss on your bare backside. His finger trails across one cheek where a pink line is still visible from the crop. Haytham sighs.

‘I am going to have to remonstrate Charles.' He gives you a smirk and you flex upwards, pushing your backside closer to him, wanting more.

'It was fun.'

'Yes well don’t let him get too carried away.'

You groan in disappointment as Haytham leaves his caressing and finishes getting dressed. His clothing is quite remarkable and you watch with fascinating the precise move of his hands with all those buttons and straps until he is neat and presentable and very distinguished. Checking himself in the mirror, you are treated to the impressive aquiline profile and lean silhouette of his body which you watch greedily.

A soft knock comes at the door, you don't even bother to cover up, dozing on your stomach on the Grandmasters bed, let them look or stare if they want to, you won’t be ashamed.

Charles Lee walks in, fully dressed. He gives you a small smirk with playful eyes and nod before turning to Haytham. 

'Breakfast Sir is ready in the dining room if the two of you wish to come down.'

'I'm sorry Charles I need to leave for New York. I'll be leaving Shay here; he will be helping Bill and Tom with something.'

Charles nods understandingly. 'Very well, Sir.'

Haytham gives you a soft kiss goodbye as he heads for the bedroom door, palm lingering against your cheek and thumb caressing your jawline.

'Although.' He purrs teasingly over his shoulder as he heads through the bedroom doorway. 'The lady could use your help at the moment of which I am unable to provide. Perhaps you should make up for your behaviour yesterday Charles?'

'Of course, Sir.' Lee replies smoothly with an artificially serious and official tone, but he is already grinning, heading in your direction on the bed.

Effortlessly, Charles grabs your ankles and hauls you to the edge until your backside is hovering off of it. He parts your legs wide and drops to his knees before you can mouth any sort of protest. The last thing you hear is Haytham’s amused chuckling down the hall as you moan and gasp, fisting Lee’s hair as his mouth dips unhesitatingly into you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay joins in the fun after a little encouragement from the Grandmaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the requests and kudos and indulging in my little fantasy with me. We just couldn't leave poor Shay out now could we ;)

 

 

As much as you hated to admit it, you miss them.

It has been several weeks since you were last in the company of any of the Templars and you were terribly disappointed and more than a little frustrated by that, which only made you angry with yourself for feeling so needy.

You will also, reluctantly, admit that you are missing the sex quite a bit.

They were all incredibly talented, and sensual, and for a while there you were becoming far too used to having the Templars undivided attention. Not to mention getting as many orgasms as you liked. Gentle exploration with your own fingers late at night just didn't quite hold the same level of satisfaction. Not anymore.

It was just a bit of fun, after all. They all had work to do, and you couldn't expect to be their number one priority you kept telling yourself, in order to justify the slightly empty feeling in your chest.  It didn’t stop you being upset that poker night was cancelled, or a little hurt that Charles or William or Thomas hadn’t been in touch. You had been hoping that you could meet the boys at some other time than their usual Friday card game, but the Templars were busy, apparently. Doing what exactly… it was probably best you didn't know, or dwell on that.

After your last encounter with them at Charles Lee’s manor, Hickey had unexpectedly turned up at your door a few days later in the early hours of the morning. Covered in mud and blood, he had gotten injured in a scrap on a mission, and was a little worse for wear. Patching him up and cleaning him off had been a bigger challenge than necessary thanks to nimble fingers and soft lips that had seemed intent on getting you out of your clothes rather than his own. Injury in no way affected his performance and you had a feeling Thomas had used his injury as a very good excuse to come visit. However, disappointingly, he had to depart far too soon, leaving you alone and curled up in a distinctly cold bed.

By happy coincidence, you also ran into William Johnson in the busy Boston market area one sunny morning. He was _very_ attentive and _very_ apologetic about not finding time to see you. That at least put any fears to rest the Templars had their fun and were no longer interested. But again, he could not stop to chat. You had to make do with a teasingly tantalising kiss, his soft dark beard tickling along your skin and nimble tongue tracing your lips before he pulled away sharply. William was very tempted, thanks to enthusiastic encouragement from you, for a quick trip to your home for an amorous encounter, but he had Order business to see to first and disappeared before you could talk him round.

You were contemplating simply turning up at Charles Lee’s manor, naked, just to see what he would do. They certainly couldn’t ignore you like that and you could hopefully get one of them to take care of your growing need for physical contact. You were beyond frustrated, and getting a little angry that they apparently couldn’t even spare five minutes to come and visit. Well if that is how the Templars were going to be then perhaps you might find yourself far too busy when they eventually did deign to contact you.

Who were you kidding, you mentally chide yourself? There is no way you would ignore them or not jump at the chance of another round of intense, earth shattering sex with any single one of them. You just worry, hoping that nothing bad is happening and that they are all alright. Such thoughts only make you feel equally foolish, there is no point in fretting about them; the Templars are more than capable of taking care of themselves.

 

Speaking of Templars, gazing out of your bedroom window you smirk inwardly as you watch a tall, dark figure leaning against the wall of the opposite building. Surely a man with assassin training should be able to make himself inconspicuous?  Instead Shay looms in the street, an intimidating, brooding figure that is very hard to miss. 

You idly wonder why Mr Cormac is standing guard outside your home. You have only met the man once, twice if you count him walking in on you and Haytham being…intimate, and it wasn’t even a proper meeting the first time.

You observe the Templar hover in the vicinity of several minutes, inspect the side streets, then disappear down an ally.

Shay comes back the next day. And the one after that.

Never trying to initiate conversation, or approach the front door, he appears randomly and at different times of the day. You watch him, loitering around you home, partly amused and partly confused. Shay wanders down alleyways, circles your building and general gives off the impression of being a sentry.

It puzzles you but you are not overly concerned, although you could have sworn you heard something heavier than squirrels or pigeons on the roof one night and that was the final straw.

The Templar seems to have taken up a silent vigil outside your home and he is still there as you watch raindrops slide down the window glass one dull, grey afternoon. The weather is horrible outside and the distant clap of thunder rings in the distance, but Shay stands silently in the rain, eyeing the door to your building and getting soaked.

Sighing and determined to get to the bottom of exactly what he thinks he was doing, you open the front door calling out from a position of dry safety.

'Come in out the rain, Shay.'

There is a brief moment’s hesitation before the man trundles across the muddy street and slips silently through the doorway. You need to back against the wall as he squeezes by the narrow gap, long coat almost brushing your body.

You hand him a towel as he looks apologetically at you for dripping water all over your floor.

'Tea?'

'Uh, no thank you madam.' His voice is soft but an unmistakable Irish brogue is thick and undiluted.

You force a hot cup into his hands anyway before he can protest.

Shay stands looking a little sheepish, towel around his neck and gaze darting around the room, surveying his surroundings with mild interest.

'Why are you standing outside?'

He startles at your question, dark eyes jumping back from their surveillance-like appraisal around your home to focus intently on you.

'I was just...checking up on you.'

That wasn’t the whole truth; you can hear the slight hesitation in his voice. Placing hands on your hips you fix the Templar with a significant look.

'I don't need, nor appreciate, being checked up on Mr Cormac. '

Shay inclines his head stiffly and a wet strand of hair falls forwards into his eyes, his gaze focused somewhere on your lips and not meeting your angry one.

'I, ugh, appreciate that, but the Grandmaster wanted me to-'

Cutting him off quickly, you wondered when you would get to Haytham. Just the mention of his name conjures an image of his broad handsome face, cool grey eyes and that little…smirk he does when he thinks he is being witty or sarcastic. Your stomach flops slightly, half way between intense arousal and overwhelming happiness at the mere thought of him.

'Why can't Haytham come himself?' You probe. The last time you were both together, Haytham did say he had work to do and mentioned something about a trip to New York. But that was weeks ago and you had assumed that you would have heard from the Grandmaster by now.

‘Hayth-the Grandmaster, is still in New York I'm afraid.'  Shay replies delicately, sitting the cup of tea aside and rubbing his head hair vigorously with the towel.

Oh, well that's just disappointing and you fight not to sigh lowly. You had hoped that Haytham would be back by now. He had, after all, promised to make his rather hasty departure up to you.

'He wants me to check up on you, make sure you are ok.' Shay’s pretty Irish voice is muffled from under cloth.

'You really don't have to.' Anger is returning and is apparent in your tone, sweeping away the wistful longing to see the Templars. You certainly don’t need them spying on you. If they can’t even bother to visit then they better not show their faces unless it is with an intention of removing their clothing and staying the night.

Shrugging, Shay peeks out from under the towel he has draped over his head. 'Orders, madam.'

'I don't need Templars loitering around my home, thank you. You can just not bother coming back Mr Cormac and you can tell Haytham, and Charles for that matter, because I know what he is like too, that I better not see any of you around here.'

Shay gives you a black look, made all the more menacing by those intense, dark eyes, and pink scar bisecting one eye. 'That is precisely the reason you may need us around. I have been checking to make sure assassins are not watching.'

'I'm not a Templar.' You reply, puzzled. Why would they have any reason to watch you?

Shay snorts derisively, wrapping the towel around his neck, his hair is still damp and in disarray, trying desperately to escape from the almost invisible black ribbon holding it back. ‘No, you are just fucking one.’

You are stunned to silence for a brief moment. You open your mouth, about to get angry with him for his distasteful tone. How dare he! What business is it of his and who is he to judge? Did Haytham not mention that Shay was a former assassin?

Shrugging again quickly, Shay rolls his shoulders tiredly and gazes out the window. ‘Sorry. That came out…worse than intended. To be seen with them makes you a target.'

You had never thought about it that way. Your bit of fun might be getting you into more trouble than you thought and the realisation suddenly allows the horrible heavy weight of panic to settle in your gut.

Realising that he may have scared you more than necessary, the Templar adopts a more soothing tone. 'Just a precaution, it's unlikely though. I have been watching for a few weeks. No one is paying you any attention.'

It's a small relief but still...still it was slightly worrying.

'You want any whiskey in that tea?'  You mutter looking for a distraction from this topic; you may consider some yourself given how you were now feeling.

Shay looks as if he is considering it but finally shakes his head gently.

'No, thank you. I need to go.'

Broad shoulders retreat to the door as you take the wet towel from him. Unfortunately his coat still looks very heavy with water and a little puddle trail forms as he walks.

You cast small supercilious glances up at the man as you escort him out. Technically you had never been introduced to the Irishman, and you wonder if his seemingly artificially polite and hesitant tone is something to do with the last time being caught naked with the Grandmaster. Johnson, Lee and Hicky had all been present when your little card game got out of hand and so far there had been no major issues regarding your relationship with all of them. But what did it look like to the rest of the order? They probably thought you some sort of whore and you suddenly worry that Haytham's position could be in jeopardy. You try and reassure yourself that surely the boys would have said something or warned you, and you console yourself with the fact Shay didn’t seem _overly_ hostile.

As you escort Shay back to the sodden street, you idly wonder how he got the rather impressive scar that cut across the right side of his face from forehead to cheek. It certainly doesn't take away from his looks. In other circumstances that darkly stubbled jaw practically begs to have your tongue trace it and jet-black hair threatening to escape from its ribbon promises ample texture to run your fingers through. He is tall and well built, even hidden behind a long coat his body hints at long lean limbs and hard muscle.

Averting your eyes from the sway of his hips, you try and keep your overly heightened feelings to yourself. More Templars in your bed is the last thing you need and Shay doesn't seem entirely comfortable in your presence.  You must have chuckled to yourself as Mr Cormac gives you a confused look over his shoulder so you pointedly focus on the pattern of the floorboards and push all thoughts of sex and Templars out of your mind.

Reaching the front door Shay slides a large palm under the outer folds of his coat, pulling out a white envelope littered with a few damp splodges. He hands it to you with minimal comment. 'From the Grandmaster.'

You turn the letter over in your hands. It’s the first time you have seem Haytham’s handwriting, neat, ordered, minimal frills; much like the man himself.

'He wishes to see you.'

Really? Your heart skips happily at the mere thought Haytham might miss your company. And after the last few frustrating weeks, the little swooping sensation low in your groin reminds you that your body would be more than delighted at a visit from him.

‘The Grandmaster wishes you to go to him in New York.’ Shay mutters with a quick sweeping glance from those intense eyes. ‘If you are willing.'

Was he joking? Of course you would be willing! You have never been to the city and you could sightsee while still having an interesting time with your favourite Templar.

'I've never been to New York.' You comment offhandedly whilst still glancing over Haytham’s letter, savouring the very personal contact from him. You will wait and open it in privacy.

‘I would be taking you on my ship, lass.'

You raise eyebrows in surprise and Shay’s lip only quirks in response, humour evident at your reaction. He was a captain? The Irishman didn't strike you much as a sailor, instead radiating an aura of being hired muscle. That was perhaps being a little unfair to the man, he wasn’t thuggish more like…a predator or hunter, giving the impression he was still honing his skills.

A sailing trip, sightseeing in New York and a few days of the delicious Grandmasters company? Even the prospect of an unpleasant sea voyage would not stop you. It would also mean that you would get a few days alone with Shay. It might be a chance to hopefully get to know the new Templar better. He was good looking certainly; the accent was lovely and caressed your ears when he deigned to speak to you. Not quite Haytham's refined, upper class drawl, but the Irish lilt was interesting. The dark stubble jaw and scar added an air of raffishness that appealed to your sense of danger. And you had been terribly neglected the last few weeks by the rest of the Templars…it would serve them right if you had a new toy to play with.

'You wanting to go?'  Shay sounds unhappily resigned to the fact that Haytham assigned him errand boy, and you hope that he doesn't feel too inconvenienced at that.

Nodding at him, the Templar turns to leave and head back out into the horrible Boston weather.

'I have a few other loose ends to lie up, pack and we can be underway the day after tomorrow.'

With barely a parting glance, Shay strolls off down the street and out of view. A few others braving the rain scuttle out his way.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s shameful really, just how excited you are when Shay collects you. In less than two days you will be able to see the Grandmaster again, and hopefully get to do a lot more than just say hello.  He asked to see you, which hopefully means that the Templar is not so busy with Order business in New York that he can't spend some quality time entertaining you.

Mr Cormac gives you an uneasy feeling of still playing bodyguard. He doesn't talk much, not to you at least. The most you get out of him is an animated conversation about his ship, the Morrigan, after admiring her on arrival at the docks.  He is very pleased with her, and all thoughts that you had of Shay not seeming much of a sailor vanish as he expertly steered her to open water, caressing the solid wood of the wheel lovingly in black gloved hands.

Frustratingly, the Irishman seems immune to teasing, and pointedly ignores your harmless flirting. His attitude towards you on the voyage seems falsely indifferent, as if he were masking other feelings and, at the moment, you are assuming those feelings are dislike. Those dark eyes stare at you, sweeping over intensely without comment if you make an offhand remark or smile at him and lick your lips. He doesn’t joke back.

Quartermaster Gist however, is a different story. Shay's first mate is a very playful man, jovial and flamboyant. The story of how he first met Shay was an interestingly animated tale that painted the Captain in a very heroic light.

Shay rolled his eyes and smirked at his quartermaster as Gist recalled an expertly timed shot saving him from the hangman’s rope. In the evening, over dinner, an increasingly drunk Gist laughingly altered the distance that Shay managed to make the shot. The lifesaving piece of marksmanship increased exponentially, as did the number of guards the Captain single-handedly fist fought in the aftermath. The pair were clearly friendly and it was usually in the quartermasters company that you were treated to Shay actually smiling. Or perhaps it was the alcohol that put him in better spirits but it was better than his silent reproach.

Gist was always willing with a dirty joke or teasing comment, and more than once, there were completely incidental brushes of his body against yours in the tight confines below deck.  The man was sorely testing your limited frustrated libido and if Shay wasn’t going to play then you decided the quartermaster might be an interesting substitute. However Shay could be guaranteed to turn up at the wrong, or possibly right moment, and Gist left quickly after a pointed look from his Captain. So much for any fun on the voyage to New York.

 

 

 

 

 

The overnight journey passed without incident and, as fun as an impromptu sea voyage was, after some bad weather and rough seas you were decidedly glad to touch down to dry land.

Shay fulfilled his duty in escorting you to the Grandmaster and you wonder whose home Haytham managed to requisition as you are ushered into a very grand drawing room. Smirking as you are lead to the Grandmasters study, the Templars certainly were not scrimping on their comforts.

He is the first thing you notice in the room. Haytham’s imposing figure is unmistakable as he stands by the fire, posture rigid and hands clasped uniformly behind his back. You managed to restrain yourself from running to him and flinging arms around his neck in a very undignified manner, but only just. Was it possible for someone to get better looking over only a few weeks?

Smiling at the Grandmaster you run your eyes deliberately suggestively over his well-dressed body, biting your lip as your own body physically reacts to his presence. You are incredibly happy to see him and bite back a small longing groan at your need to touch him.

Haughty, piercing, eyes slide over every inch of your frame as Haytham turns from the fire to greet the pair of you. He gives you a small smirk, clearly observing your own lustful gaze in his direction. The man looks incredibly smug at your obvious reaction and the unmistakable evidence that you missed him dearly.

As you pull away from Shay’s to reach the Grandmasters side, barely inches between your bodies, you inhale the slightly musky, spicy scent of his cologne. The heat form his body and gentle puff of breath against your skin as he leans forwards to place a gentle kiss on your cheek almost weakens your knees.

It is a chaste kiss, the barest brush of his soft lips along your cheek but it sets fire your skin and sends tingling jolts of pleasure down your neck. You can’t help shiver against him wanting more. You don't want chaste, you have wanted Haytham fiercely since he left all those weeks ago and you need more.

Before the Grandmaster can pull back, you inch closer, pressing your body fully against the solid warmth of his and turning your head slightly so that his lips brush yours. It has the desired effect of a small longing groan from him and a much harsher press of lips as he halts his retreat and kisses you again reverently, mouth crushing hard against you and tongue snaking into your mouth for the briefest of delicious caresses.

Haytham finally pulls away with a small smirk, those grey eyes now thunderstorm in colour. His lips are wet and pink from the intensity of his kiss and your eyes focus on them, own lips parted, pulse thudding in your ear, desperate for another taste of him. You need him, naked and in a bed, and _quickly_.

You are startled from your overwhelming desire for Haytham by the other Templar you had almost forgotten about still standing in the room.

'I'll leave you to it.' Shay says quietly with a respectful nod to Haytham, and turns to leave.

Wrapped in the warmth of Haytham’s body, you watch Shay’s broad, powerful shoulders retreat.

'Shay, stay a moment.' The Grandmasters voice is deep and harsh from his arousal and he has to clear his throat before he continues.

'Sir?'

Turning back to the room, Shay is just outside the warm glow of the fire that you and Haytham are wrapped in. He gives the Grandmaster a puzzled look and you turn to face him with an equally puzzled look of your own.

Haytham seems confident and self-assured. He gives you a mischievous look and a low chuckle that you can feel lodge tightly between your legs.  ‘Don’t think I haven’t seen those coy little glances.’ He teases. ‘And you just looked at Shay like a child told they couldn’t have another sweet. He is a handsome boy and I know first-hand how insatiable you are.'

Haytham’s warm palms slide across your hips pulling you against his body so that you are pressed tightly against him while surveying Shay from across the room.

'Sir, I wouldn't-' The Irishman begins, but the Grandmaster cuts across him with a casual wave of his hand and adopts a playful tone.

'I'm frankly surprised you made it here unmolested, Mr Cormac.'

You had expected Haytham to at least be a little upset that you were coveting yet another one of his men, but he just seems amused. Tugging you towards him, you thought, was a display of dominance and ownership but he has placed you in front of his body, hands rubbing your hips and sides, almost as if he were showing you off to the other man.

Shay watches the pair of you with a calculating look, unearthly still and face almost unreadable.

'She almost didn't let me.' He declares in his usual deadpan tone, but the slightest glimmer in his eyes and gentle quirk of lips show that he was carefully teasing back.

You make a small noise of protest in your throat at their mockery of you, even if it was in good fun. Really, you only flirted a little. Haytham made you sound positively wanton.

'Come Shay, stay with us.'  Haytham murmurs lowly, and that got your attention. Oh, he was trying to convince him to sleep with you after all?

Pulse hammering at the unexpected, but wonderful turn of events, you lick you lips and watch the other man intently, awaiting his response.

Shay’s face is a mask of surprise but his reply still has a very wary tone to it. 'You want me to sleep with you, Sir?'

'I’m not adverse to the company of men, if that is what you are hinting at.’ Haytham says matter of factly. ‘But I have a feeling we would both be much more interested in the lady between us. I certainly have no objection to your presence if she doesn't. '

Shay gives the pair if you a long lingering look, possibly weighing up the truth in Haytham’s words and that he won't be angering his boss. He makes no move to turn and leave and the Grandmaster takes that as his affirmation.

'Excellent.’ Haytham murmurs seductively. ‘Upstairs to the bedroom with the both of you, I think.'

Still wrapped in Haytham’s arms, your gaze never leaves the Templar opposite who is watching you with a look of utter hunger. It's Shay’s look, full of hot intensity, that causes your stomach to flutter and thighs to clench, even as Haytham’s lips sweep your neck with brief kisses.

Here you were during the trip to New York thinking that Mr Cormac had no interest in you, when he really he was simply not wanting to get on the Grandmasters bad side.

Haytham sweeps from the room with his usual air of confidence, long navy coat flapping behind him, and you and Shay are left to wordlessly follow in his wake. It's a little awkward, the air charged with sexual tension but not knowing how to start conversation, knowing that you have just agreed to sex without really having much interaction with the third person involved, before now.

Following Haytham silently, Shay seems to have left an artificially large space between himself and you as the three of you head through the lavish townhouse towards the bedrooms.

It would be easier if he were to touch you, or kiss you, or perhaps even make any sort of indication that he is pleased with the turn of events other than that dusky, passionate look, but he seems to be following the Grandmaster lead.

After ushering you and Shay inside the bedroom, Haytham closes the door with a resolute thump, and you almost jump at the noise, too lost in your own intrusive thoughts.

Standing awkwardly in the room with both men, you notice Shay’s intense scrutiny still hasn’t wavered. Glancing over at Haytham, he seems oblivious as his hat and coat are casually tossed aside. You wonder if you and Shay are expected to just start remove clothing too and get down to business but the Grandmaster stops with his coat and hat, leaving himself in waistcoat and shirtsleeves.

Body thrumming in energy, Shay appears tense, and looks as if he is ready to pounce at any moment. He reminds you of a dog, held back only by his master’s word, and just waiting for permission to grab that ball. And at the moment, you are that metaphysical ball. It sets your heart racing and palms sweating in anticipation.

Haytham walks towards a small cabinet and motions towards you. ‘Drink?’

The other Templar agrees but you shake your head. You need something desperately but it’s not alcohol that your body craves, its naked flesh and passionate touch and their lips caressing your skin.

Handing Shay his drink, Haytham then stalks towards you, pausing to run his palms across your shoulders, over your collar, and down your body to eventually rest at your waist. After a brief, whiskey tasting kiss, he nips along your jaw line with his lips until he can nibble your ear.

You can only roll your head to the side, allowing him unrestricted access and moaning softly as lips caress your sensitive skin. You have missed this, and him.

Pressing yourself eagerly against the front of Haytham’s warm body, you melt against him, lacing your hands behind his neck to keep him close and encourage him to keep going but he disappointingly pulls away, leaving you moaning softly for more kisses.

'Go play with your new toy.' He breathes excitedly in your ear, tongue tracing the outline, but with his gaze focused on Shay.  Haytham gives you a gentle, encouraging, push from his side towards the other Templar, who is silently watching your exchange.

As you approach him across the small room, Shay’s arms automatically sneak around your waist, pulling you roughly towards him that last few inches. The first kiss is wonderful, just the right amount of pressure, strong gloved fingers kneading the back of your neck and hip gently, tongue just briefly caressing yours in short unhurried strokes.

When Shay finally releases you with a low masculine sigh of contentment, you are left panting and ready for so much more. You want to see him naked, to feel warm skin fully under your hands and brushing thoroughly along your body. Even though his outfit is very sexy and you had more than one fantasy on the voyage to New York regarding the Captain touching you intimately with those black leather gloves; you can perhaps save that for another time.

You tug impatiently at his clothing and Shay breaks another one of those tantalising kisses to help you, a small arrogant smirk gracing those strong features.

He removes his coat and you are already eagerly pushing the black shirt off of his shoulders before he even has his arms free of it. There is the smallest gasp low in the Templars chest as your hands finally slide over bare skin. With arms still tangled in his coat, you use Shay’s helplessness as a distraction to rub your palms across his bare chest, down across his pectoral muscles and place your lips greedily at the hollow of his throat.

Shay’s pulse flutters under your palm, heart beating wildly, and you notice that he is panting heavily as you attack his bare skin with your lips, and gently, teeth. His skin is on fire and you dart out your tongue to taste the slightly salty tang of it, tracing little scars on his torso with reverence.

Growling lowly, the Irishman glances down at you eagerly nibbling along his collar and eager fingers walking down across his taught stomach searching lower. His eyes are hooded and unfocused and he takes a moment to enjoy the exploration of your touch.

Your hand slides across a significant bulge in the front of his black leather breeches and he shudders in pleasure. You notice Shay glancing questioningly at Haytham as he tries to free himself from his restrictive clothing and your mercy.

The Grandmaster chuckles in amusement somewhere behind you. 'You are on your own with this one, Shay. She’s not one of your tavern girls that will wait passively for you.'

Finally wriggling fully out of his coat and shirt, with much help, or hindrance depending on how you look at it, from you, Shay tugs you away from exploring his warm, earthy smelling neck to capture your lips again. He is more urgent this time, rougher, his lips crushing against yours and fingers digging into your body with a vice like grip.

It leaves you dazed and breathless, and when he is finished Shay drags you towards the large bed and practically throws you down onto it.

You land with a slight bounce on the soft springy mattress and an eager laugh. Your pulse speeds as the Templar quickly crawls onto the bed and covers your body with his larger one.  Leaning on your elbows, you can just see past Shay’s dark head for a moment to catch Haytham watching the pair of you, his eyes alight with hunger. But he makes no move to approach the bed; instead takes a seat next to the far wall and sitting his, now empty, glass on the dresser beside him.

'You not coming?’ You pout, almost disappointedly, at the Grandmaster.

Haytham stretches out that long lean frame, observing you with amused eyes. 'Yes, but not _quite_ yet.'

Making himself comfortable in the chair, Haytham’s position offers an excellent view of the bed. He seems eager to watch Shay with you and you suppose he did watch Bill and Charles _and_ Thomas during the aftermath of your poker game. The Grandmaster obviously gets off on the voyeurism aspect of it.

Your attention is brought back sharply to the man on top of you as Shay presses harder against the front of your body and you are forced to lie flat on the bed. You writhe against him as the delightful, warm, weight of him settles between your legs and lips return to skilfully plunder your mouth.  Hips grind against yours and it is such delicious torture, having his most intimate area nudging between your legs only to be separated by a few layers of superfluous clothing.

Shay pulls away for too soon, leaving you groaning and straining upwards for more. His eyes crinkle in amusement at your disappointed pout, but as he kneels on the bed above you, he glances across his shoulder in Haytham’s direction.

With a mischievous smirk in those dark eyes, Shay eases you from your prone position on the bed to your knees and slowly turns you towards the Grandmaster. Positioning his own body, kneeling behind you, and back pressed tightly against his bare chest, Shay make sure that Haytham now has an unrestricted view of you on the bed and sets to work, slowly removing your clothing.

Taking his time, strong hands caress patches of skin as Shay reveals your body to the other man, teasingly displaying you for the Grandmasters enjoyment. 

Your breath hitches watching Haytham’s eager face, his kissable lips wet and parted and face hungrily drink in your exposed body. He has abandoned that ridiculously ridged posture and is now slouched down into his seat, thighs parted invitingly and boots discarded beside him.

Whimpering from Shay’s touch, you are forced to watch Haytham’s long fingers slowly unbutton that startling red waistcoat all on his own. His erection is evident, tenting the front of his clothing impressively, but the Grandmaster shifts in his seat and shows remarkable restraint in not touching himself just yet.

As Haytham unlaces the collar of his shirt, exposing a long line of taught pale throat, you are almost ready to crawl off the bed and go to him, to run your mouth over that tantalising bit of exposed flesh, but you are held firmly in place by the Templar behind you and must bit your lip and suffer the agony of his teasing mouth and fingers.

Finally getting you naked, Shay grinds himself against your bare backside and you can feel the hard press of his trouser seam where his erection strains the fabric. His hands wrap around your body from behind and curl upwards cupping your breasts, fondling and pushing them forwards slightly, as if offering them to Haytham.  Thumbs brush your nipples and soon you can’t even focus on the Grandmaster sitting eager and excited in the chair opposite, you can only roll your head back to lean against the strong warmth of Shay’s body while rough calloused fingers tease your body out to a drawn out bundle of erotic tension.

When Shay skims his hands lightly down your stomach, your muscles flutter in anticipation, arm reaching wildly behind you to tangle fingers in his hair and kiss him deeply over your shoulder, urging him on.

Fingers delve deftly into your already soaking slit, drawing a needy moan from your lips and a sigh of satisfaction from the man behind you. Shay’s fingers get to work with skilful ease, tormenting your clit in short confident strokes while his lips send little jolts of pleasure down your neck and straight between your legs.

Haythams eyes glint in the dimly lit room, watching Shay pleasure you has the Grandmaster squirming in his seat, shirt and waistcoat now fully thrown open to reveal a fine sheen of sweat already covering his chest. His lips part and body twitches with every little moan and gasp from you, as if he can feel your pleasure himself.

Your orgasm peaks with Shay's dexterous fingers thrumming your clit quickly, the other hand cupped around your breast and teeth embedded in your neck. Crying out and shaking against him, the Irishman’s arms wrapped tightly around you are the only thing keeping you upright and preventing you sinking to the surface of the bed in a blissful pile of feminine liquid goo. 

Fingers slide from your aching sex and you can see the glisten of wetness coating Shay’s palm. 'You want to taste her, Sir?' His voice is low and husky, leaving you shivering against him.

Haytham groans at the invitation and that noise sends a bolt of arousal straight between your legs again. It was _such_ a needy groan.

Deftly unbuttoning the front of his breeches, the Grandmaster twists his cock free, wrapping the impressive length in his palm, and slowly begins stroking himself, never taking his eyes off the pair of you on the bed as he does so but makes no move to join you just yet.

Shay shrugs and raises his own hand to his lips; sucking on the fingers that he has pleasured you with in eagerness.

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from the delicious sight of Haytham pleasuring himself, to give Shay a deep kiss over your shoulder, sharing the taste of your body on his tongue.

Sliding off of the bed, Shay quickly removes the last of his clothing leaving him wonderfully nude. The dim candle light bounces off of the defined contours of his taut, toned body and begs to be touched. You want to trace each scar marring the perfection of him with your tongue and fingertips. His cock, already straining towards you, positively invites you to touch it, so you crawl eagerly to the edge of the bed, reaching out towards him.

Shay moves just out of your reach with a small smirk before you can wrap your palm around his shaft. Denying you the fun of exploring his body, he manoeuvres you easily on top of the bed until you are sitting on the edge, feet barely touching the floor and legs parted wide.

Haytham make a small excited growl low in his throat as your naked body is unashamedly expose for his full viewing pleasure. He has a good long predatory look at your revealed wet and glistening pussy before licking his lips.

Shay grins, sinking to his knees and positioning himself between your legs and Haytham strains in his seat as his view is momentarily restricted by the Irishman’s broad back.

Shay voice is low and intimate as he whispers from is kneeling position on the floor. 'Keep your eyes on him.'

His tongue slips between your folds and your back arches in pleasure forcing you to grab Shay’s shoulders for support. When his mouth connects with your already over stimulated clit, you are left wriggling and bucking on the edge of the bed, fingers tangling in his hair. You tug the black ribbon holding Shay’s collar length hair in place and silky waves fall forwards to brush your inner thighs. Your eyes slip closed, head falling back at the unbelievable sensation of his warm wet mouth encompassing you when that incredible lapping tongue suddenly ceases. With a moan of disappointment you gaze down your naked body to Shay, who is still poised between your legs, but grinning up at you, eyebrow raised. He doesn't return to his task until your eyes are again fixed on the Grandmaster and not closed in supplication.

With his dark head busy between your legs, Shay’s back is to the Grandmaster. He can’t see Haytham’s reaction, but he must have an idea given that he wanted your gaze focused on the man, tormenting him.

Your breath hitches with each sensational sweep of Shay's tongue, every scrap of dark stubble on your inner thigh and caress from eager fingertips edging you closer to another amazing orgasm.  Watching Haytham’s impatiently parted lips, and palm firmly stroking himself as another man eats you out only increases the impending explosion of tension.

‘When you cum say his name.’ Shay breathes against your damp skin, before his mouth returns to its task of driving you insane.

‘Haytham.’ His name is forced from between your lips as the Irishman’s tongue deliberately circles your peaking clit. You sound so terribly lustful and desperate but you can’t help it. You are receiving so much pleasure, your body on the brink of release and all that fills your vision is the handsome Grandmaster pleasuring himself. ‘Come join us.’ You practically beg him.

Haytham ceases the movements of his hand against his own flesh, cock straining and flushed deep angry red. A small clear dribble of cum has escaped the tip and the tip now glistens wetly against this skin. 

God you want it, you want him. You reach out to the Templar, wanting him to come and join you on the bed.

Haytham leans forward in his chair, body tense, poised as Shay’s mouth drives you to the edge of release.

Squirming uncontrollably, you are so close when you feel fingers tease and probe the entrance to your body and all you want is Haytham’s cock buried inside of you. Your fingers tangle in Shay’s dark hair, unsure whether you want to push him deeper against you or drag those illegal lips away from your increasingly sore and sensitive body.

‘Haytham, _please_.’

The Grandmaster almost reacts to your pleading. Standing from his chair he strips off his dishevelled clothing until he is left nude and pale and prettier than any marble statue. He frustratingly returns to his chair, eyeing you and Shay with a covetous looks and teasing his shaft lightly with only the tips of his fingers.

Your body reacts as Shay pushes your over the edge with his mouth clapped around your pussy and fingers just penetrating you. Unable to remain upright or watch the deliciously erotic sight of Haytham and Shay, you end up sprawled on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed and vison fogging while the Templar’s mouth works over your twitching, spasming clit.

Panting, and with a fine sheen of sweat glistening on your body, your rest is remarkably short lived. You could really just curl up and go to sleep after such a wonderful orgasm but Shay has other ideas.

Getting you on to your hands and knees on the bed, Shay quickly has you facing the Grandmaster and positions himself behind you. Warm hands encircling your hips and you can feel the tip of his cock press between your legs, sliding back and forth between the wet slick he has created with his mouth, coating himself in your arousal and teasing you mercilessly.

You whine, throwing a frustrated look over your shoulder as he continues to slip back and forth, but never giving you what you need. Pushing your hips back you try and impale yourself on him, it earns you and small chuckle from the man behind you and also the one opposite.

'You see what we have to put up with Shay.’ Haytham purrs. ‘There would be no point in keeping her to myself, all this pleasure and still she _begs_ for more.'

A long, satisfied cry of yes hisses from between your clenched teeth as Shay finally drives himself into your wet and needy body in a long, unrelenting thrust. Hips bruise against your backside as he delivers rough, punishing, strokes that leave your breasts bouncing with every thrust. When your head falls down to rest on top of the bed, Shay grabs your hair firmly, yanking your head up to face the Grandmaster.

 _'Haytham_.' You plead; needing him to join you, even with so much pleasure from Shay you still want the other man intensely.

This time Haytham is out of his chair quickly at your begging and heads towards the bed. He stops just at the edge, cool grey eyes look down at you from his standing vantage point, watching Shay thrust deeply and your body jerking from his movements.

Leaning downwards, Haytham gives you an awkward kiss given your uncontrolled bucking body but he tastes wonderful and it feels so familiar and right to have his lips against yours. Warm, gentle palms caress your breasts, fondling you peaking nipples briefly before the Grandmaster straightens again and stands in front of you.

Haytham presses the tip of his cock against your lips. You take the hint, opening your mouth to welcome the warm velvety skin and he slides along your tongue and into your mouth with a low groan and shiver sweeping his body. 

You can taste the salty tang of cum as you suck on him, delighting in the feel and taste and the small masculine noises of pleasure from low in his throat. As you roll your eyes upwards, you have an unrestricted view of the long, toned, line of the Grandmasters body, his head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure. Just watching him in such an unreserved state tightens your body around the Templar currently between your legs.

Haytham’s hips jerk forwards, pushing himself deep into your mouth and you focus on swallowing and breathing deeply through your nose.

Shay continues his assault behind you, fingers bruising your hips as your body rocks with the force of his thrusts. He pushes you forwards into Haytham, encouraging you to suck deeper until all you can focus on is the wonderfully building pressure between your legs and the incredible feeling of being sandwiched between two warm male bodies. 

You are trapped between them, but it is not somewhere you would even consider escaping from. If you move back, Shay impales his cock further into you, if you move forwards Haytham slides deeper into your mouth. There is no escape from the sensation and your entire world is focused down to the smell and taste of sweat and sex.

Little groans escape the Grandmasters mouth every time Shay forces squeals of pleasure from your lips and the noise reverberates around the thick pulsing shaft in your mouth. Haytham, shudders suddenly, hips stilling their movement, giving you a few seconds warning before your mouth is filled his seed.

It's hard to swallow with still Shay roughly thrusting against you and the Grandmasters cum ends up trickling from the corner of your mouth and making a mess of the bed. But he doesn't seem to mind, stroking your hair, fingers tickling your scalp as he withdraws with a deep sigh of contentment. Haytham kneels, giving you a gentle kiss and sliding his hand under your body, fingers petting between your legs as he encourages another orgasm from you while the other Templar finishes.

Fingers gently probing your swollen clit, Haytham murmurs encouragement in your ear, as Shay's relentless pace seeks his own orgasm between your legs.

As little waves of pleasure radiate from your centre, you pulse and spasm around the thick shaft buried inside of you and Shay cries out, swearing under his breath, fingers digging almost painfully into the bare flesh of your hips as he shudderingly releases with a low feral growl.

You collapse in the aftermath, sweaty and exhausted, and there is an amusing tangle of limbs as three bodies try to arrange themselves for comfort on top of the bed. You end up on your back, partly curled towards Haytham with Shay’s warm body pressing against you.

 

 

 

 

'Can she take two?'

Still dozing and recovering pleasantly from the aftermath of your lovemaking, Shay’s question to Haytham puzzles you for a moment. Can you take two what?

Oh, you suddenly realise what he is meaning and glance over your shoulder at him with a greedy look. The Irishman is lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the fingers of his other hand lightly caressing your hip in an idle fashion. His knee was raised hiding the lower part of his body from you and as he drops it, you can see that the Templar is well on his way to being fully aroused again.

'That has been explored yes.’ The Grandmasters voice is low and intimate and his tone causes you to shiver. ‘Charles did say she has a wonderfully tight little arse.'

You blush at their frank discussion wondering if sexual conversations regarding you are common. ‘Hey, I am right here boys.’

Haytham smirks and gives you a kiss. ‘And my day is all the better for it.’

The bed moves gently as the Grandmaster rolls over. Opening a drawer in a bedside table, he returns with a small bottle of amber coloured oil. 'Who’s preparing her?'

Shay reaches out, removing the bottle from Haytham's hands and uncorking it. 'Let me.' He murmurs and scoots down the bed, palms rolling you over you over so that they can rub over your bare backside. ‘See if you can get the old man going again in the meantime.' Shay teases in your ear, pushing your upper body into Haytham’s bare lap.

Your breath tickles over the Grandmasters softened cock and his thighs part instinctively to let you lie between them.

'Less of the old, thank you, boy.' Haytham growls, but with humour still sparkling in those eyes.

Your laugh at their playfulness was soon quelled by oil slicked fingers light tracing your bare skin, and replaced with low, desperate groans and the promise of more fun to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun with the Grandmaster, and Shay for good measure. Just because I can ( and desperately want to) :)

 

 

You are woken by a slight shiver of cold. Stirring restlessly, you aim to snuggle further down into the soft blankets, or perhaps inch closer to one of the warm male bodies that you had been happily sandwiched between.

Shay’s large forearm is draped heavily across your stomach, and, now that you are awake, you can feel the gentle puff of his breath along your collar where he is tucked against the front of your body. The Templars face is uncharacteristically soft in sleep, unguarded and relaxed, and you take a moment to brush back a few raven wisps of hair that had fallen down across his temples. Shay huffs in his sleep, arms tightening around you but doesn’t wake. It draws a small smile from your lips; you certainly don’t mind being used as this man’s teddy bear.

Glancing over your shoulder you realise why you were suddenly feeling the cold. Haytham’s strong, inviting, body wasn’t pressed tightly at your other side where he had fallen asleep after your third bout of lovemaking, or perhaps it was fourth, you were not sure, it was all one large happy orgasm-filled blur that you hope will be happening again tomorrow night.

You roll over in search of the Grandmaster causing Shay to shift and stir in his sleep, arm falling away from you as he rolls over and makes himself comfortable, tangling most of the covers around him as he does so. You find Haytham’s space on the bed rumpled, but cold and empty.

Scanning the dimly lit room, you eventually spot Haytham’s tall, ridged frame at the far end of the bedroom standing in the shadows and staring out the window into the dark, New York night.

Trying not to wake Shay, you slip out of bed carefully. The air in the room is chilly and you shiver, body unhappy to be parted from the cosy bed coverings and the shared body heat of another person. The fire in the hearth has burned low and threatens to extinguish completely, smouldering embers casting a minimal glow across the walls. Your feet freeze as they touch the polished wooden flooring, and your teeth are chattering already.

With an almost mute grumble of annoyance, you quickly wrap the Grandmasters discarded coat around your shoulders to ward off the early hours of the morning cold. It is far too big for you as you pull your arms into the sleeves, cuffs hanging well below your hands, but it is warm and smells deliciously of him, so you will forgive the slightly scratchy fabric rubbing your skin. You are surprised how heavy it is and how course the embroidery, but you suppose it is normally worn as the Templars outer coat and he isn’t naked underneath; fabric scratching his bare skin is probably not his main concern.

As you approach the Grandmaster your heart almost flutters at the exquisite sight of him, and another more intimate part of your anatomy sends a faint tingling pulse throughout your body. The faint moonlight through the window glows off of his pale skin and his profile of harsh lines, broad shoulders and strong nose and jaw are in striking silhouette. He has pulled on his breeches but they hang loose and unfastened around his hips, offing little glimpses of the hollows at the base of his spine before flaring out to a frankly, pinchable, backside.

Unable to help yourself, you reach out, running your palm across his shoulder and down his arm. His skin is impossibly cold to the touch.

Just how long had he been standing here?

‘Haytham, you are freezing.’ You murmur, shocked, as your own fingers cool simply by touching him.

The Grandmaster turns slightly to look over his shoulder at you, a small smirk in place but nothing like the usual infuriatingly sexy cockiness you have seen from him before.

‘Did I wake you?’ His voice is clear, but low, careful to not rouse Shay lying so close on the bed.

You shake your head and press against his broad back, trying to share some of the warmth from his coat, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold and doesn’t try to move closer and snuggle into it with you.

‘I wondered what happened to you is all. Couldn’t sleep?’ You ask him and he shakes his head.

‘I have a few things on my mind.’

‘Such as?’ You prompt gently.

The Templar smiles placatingly at you. ‘No need to concern yourself.’

Sighing, you gently nudge him in the ribs to get him to tell you anyway. It is no good if he won’t talk to you, you are sure that he won’t share every detail or problem or facet of Templar life, but if any of them would simply open up a little then you could at least offer a sympathetic ear in-between kisses.

After a long period of silence, you assume that the Grandmaster is simply going to ignore you and leave it at that. You rub your cheek against the smooth supple skin between his shoulder blades, still hugging him from behind and trying to warm his torso with your own body heat.

‘Tell me.’ Haytham says eventually, slowly, his voice becoming serious. You do not like his sudden solemn tone and it distracts you from the small kisses you had begun peppering across his back. ‘Are you comfortable with this…arrangement?’

You mull over the Templars words, unsure of the response to give. A little part of your chest sinks in disappointment and the breath sucks from your lungs in one painful sweep. You had worried that this would eventually come; doubts and questions. It had been pretty while it lasted but in reality this was all an unbelievably erotic and pleasant fantasy that could not be sustained indefinitely. Things like this just didn’t happen to you, hell; things like this didn’t happen to anyone.

They would eventually force you to choose between them, you had assumed. It had been fun, but how long could you continue having a relationship with several different men before one of them pressed for more, or exclusivity? It was expected but still surprisingly hurt a great deal, more than you thought it would.

A lead weight sinks into your stomach and settles uncomfortably as you face the prospect of harsh reality. It broke your heart a little to think that Haytham would be the one doing it because you knew when this day came, for one of them to challenge, or question, then it would all be over, it would mark the end of all of this. You couldn’t choose, it would _kill_ you to choose.

‘I’m fine with it.’ You try your hardest not to sound upset, hoping that the Grandmaster can’t see the traitorous tears forming in your eyes or hear the slight wobble in your voice.

‘You are happy?’ He asks, almost disbelievingly.

‘This is the most fun I have ever had.’ You say quite earnestly and Haytham give you a small genuine smile and snort of amusement. ‘You all make me feel really wanted, and special.’ You add quickly, breathlessly, hoping that you can convince him not to make this a bigger issue than it is already.

Haytham turns from the window and folds you into his arms, pulling you against his broad chest and giving you a gentle kiss to your temple. His eyes dart behind you to the bed where Shay is obviously still sleeping.

‘Did you come here because you wanted to?’ He asks softly, pushing you away from his chest slightly so that he can look you in the eye.

What kind of question was that? Of course you wanted to come, you had been practically panting to see him for weeks.

Nodding you meet his cool grey gaze that remind you so much of the foggy snowstorms outside of Boston. ‘Of course.’

‘You came of your own free will?’ He presses, urgently.

You can only stare at the Templar, puzzled, lips parted, and trying to find an adequate response that didn’t make you sound needy, desperate, or overly promiscuous. It may be a little late for all of that however, you muse.

Where had this come from? You are not sure what is going on but this was obviously not quite the conversation that you had assumed it was going to be. You can only murmur yes in the face of the Grandmaster’s seriousness.

Haytham nods gently, hands softly rubbing down the outside of your arms. You can feel the gentle caress of his thumbs even through the coat and you suddenly want to be closer, to have his body touching your bare skin.

‘It occurs to me that I was being selfish. I wanted to see you, I ordered Shay to bring you here. I didn’t ask him, I _ordered_ him to go and get you as if I would order him to infiltrate one of the garrisons or remove an assassin from our way. I was abusing the Order for benefits to my personal life. It is not Shay’s job to ferry you around but that’s what I had him doing.’

Haytham sighs heavily before continuing. You can only hold your breath, watching the sombre expression on his face and wanting to reassure him there was nothing you would rather be doing than being here.

‘More seriously, however, I had not discussed it with you. Perhaps you were not interested in travelling hundreds of miles to a strange city; perhaps you couldn’t put your life on hold for a few days to satisfy my whim. It wasn’t until Shay left that I began to wonder what he would do if you said no. He didn’t know quite the extent of our…relationship. You could easily have been dragged here against your will.’

Unfortunately you couldn’t absolve Haytham of his first problem. If he was compromising the Order then he would need to work that out on his own. Perhaps it was true, and the Grandmaster shouldn’t be using Templar resources for his own pleasure, but you suppose it wasn’t _such_ a terrible abuse of power. And what good was it being the boss if you couldn’t make things a little easier for yourself now and then?

But there was nothing to his claims that you might not want to be here, you could at least put his mind to rest about that.

‘But I wanted to come, I was _eager_ to come.’

‘And if you hadn’t been?’ He huffed a little exasperatedly, as if you were being deliberately obtuse.

You shake your head wearily against his imagined obstacles. He was dealing in what ifs.

‘Haytham, Shay asked me to come. He said that you wished to see me and I knew exactly why you wanted to see me. I don’t think Shay took it in the way that you believe you expressed yourself. He said that you asked me to come to you. If I had said no then Shay would have probably just told you that. He didn’t show any signs of dragging me here whatever my answer.’

Haytham nods but still seems a little troubled, perhaps unconvinced.

‘You are under no obligation, you know that? I won’t let them hurt you. None of the Order members will peruse you if you want to walk away at any time.’

That was nice to know, but walking away was the furthest thing from your mind. You can’t remember ever having this much fun. You open the front of the coat and wrap your arms around him, shivering when his cold chest and stomach presses against yours as you draw him into the warmth and cuddle close.

The Grandmaster kisses the top of your head affectionately and moves to pull away but you tighten your hold around his waist, not wanting to let go just yet. He gives you another gentle kiss, moving those tantalisingly lips down across your temple, your cheek, until he catches your lips with his own and a soft groan.

Pushing back against the hardness of his body you respond eagerly to his kiss, trying to convince him with your actions that you were more than happy to be here with him. You squirm against the Templar, laughing against his mouth as he slips his hands under the coat and warms them on the small of back. You all but yelp at the contact, feeling as if you had been plunged into icy water.

‘Stop that, you are freezing!’ You admonish him playfully.

The Grandmaster chuckles lowly against your lips and continues his wonderfully skilful kisses. His tongue is warm and wet in contrast to the rest of his chilled body as it snakes into your mouth, caressing your tongue and beginning a slow, sensuous rhythm.

You can only moan, moulding yourself to the front of his body in desperate eagerness for more.

Haytham’s palms slip around your hips, lifting you slightly to perch your backside on the edge of a nearby dresser pressed against the wall, his mouth still on yours, greedily stealing away all your groans of pleasure.

You squeal and squirm as cold hands slide to your waist and up your ribs. 'Your hands are freezing!' You protest again, wiggling and trying to remove them from your skin.

Haytham only grunts in amusement against your neck and begins kissing a path down to your collar. 'Heat them up.' He murmurs playfully against your throat, before biting down gently with his teeth and marking his way all the way along your taut neck.

As the Templars icy hands wander your body you wriggle each time he presses against you, which only makes him laugh all the harder.

The shock of his cold touch soon wears off however, as the increasing heat from your body warms him. Your nipples are no longer freezing stiff peaks against his cold chest. You wrap your arms around his neck as his body fits snuggly against yours. The gentle petting and eager exploration of mouth and hands is doing a wonderful job of raising your body temperature until you are panting against him, you can even feel the gentle gather of sweat between your breasts as you writhe and buck under his touch.

Haytham’s lips are back on yours, reverently, tongue plundering its way past your teeth, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. He pushes his coat off of your shoulders, cool air caressing your naked skin but the shiver racking your body this time was more to do with his mouth on you and large palms cupping your breasts. Haytham's thumbs glide over your nipples while he kneads the heavier flesh of your breasts gently. You lean into his touch, arching your back and pushing your chest closer to him as the slightly calloused fingers creates a pooling need to have him touch you between your legs.

As he wiggles his breeches down just enough to expose himself, you feel a much hotter part of his anatomy glide over your skin and press urgently between your open thighs. You shift closer, eager for him, body thrumming with need.

You feel the tension and hesitation as the Grandmaster pulls back and groan in disappointment as his lips leaves yours, your eyes fluttering open to watch the hesitation in his. You watch the doubt form back in his mind as he pulls away intending to stop.

Digging fingernails into his hips, you pull the Templar back towards you, sliding to the edge of the dresser until your backside is nearly falling off. Pressing Haytham between your legs, the tip of his hard cock slips through the already slick folds of your pussy and brushes your clit. Moaning softly, your buck your hips, wrapping your arms around Haytham’s neck so that he has no choice but to pull you closer, arms around your waist.

There is a low deep rumble in his chest as he kisses you again, unable to help himself. You squeeze his hips with your knees, encouraging him forwards, wanting him inside you.

With a growl he tosses the coat bunched around your waist out of his way across the floor. Dragging your closer he shifts his angle and slides his cock into you on one long thrust, leaving your moaning into his kisses in bliss.

The dresser under you creeks in protest as the Grandmaster forms a steady thrusting rhythm with his hips. He slips his palms under your backside, grabbing your soft flesh firmly so that he can drag your body towards him on every stroke.

Haytham’s arms are strong, you can feel the muscles bunch and tense against your body as he pulls you towards him, he is almost lifting you onto his cock with every thrust and most of your weight is left bearing down on your clit, grinding against his pubic bone.

You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky smooth texture, loosening and messing it from the small red ribbon he habitually ties it back with while Haytham’s mouth is busy at the hollow of your throat, running his lips and tongue and teeth across just the right spot to have you shivering and clinging to him.

You can feel your orgasm building on every stroke, the grind of his hips, your clit rubbing back and forth, his excited groans in your ear. You arch your back and the Grandmaster must have hit just the right spot as there is suddenly a little explosion of coloured stars behind your eyelids as you cum, tightening around his cock and body trembling.

As your body stills and a shocked low gasp escapes your lips Haytham is not far behind, with a low hiss and hot breath in your ear. Both left panting, the Grandmaster leans his exhausted weight against the dresser.

'You think we woke Shay?' He murmurs, still out of breath after a few moments, and still wrapped in your embrace. Before you can even glance over his shoulder to check, you hear an answering; 'You did.'

Shay is still lying on the bed, but now propped up on pillows and clearly enjoying the show. There is amusement in his strong accent and he smirks as you catch his eye.

The Grandmaster laughs softly against your neck, bestowing a final linger kiss against the pulse point in your throat, and a little dart of his tongue sweeping across your skin.

‘I’ll trade you places, Shay.’

With Haytham’s words your body pricks up in excitement. Felling languid and sated after your orgasm, you are amazed how quickly the thought of more pleasure can have you ready and eager again.

Haytham pulls away and you squeak in shock, shivering in the cold room now that his body is no longer warmly snuggled against most of yours and you are not engaging in some heat-generating activities. Giving him an unimpressed look you reach out for his long coat again.

He grins as he tucks himself back into his breeches. ‘Perhaps I will stroke the fire before getting into bed.’

You jump down off of the dresser and dart quickly across the room as Haytham heads to the fire, sighing in pleasure as you slip between the sheets beside Shay’s enjoyably warm body.

 

 

**********************************************************************

 

 

 

Waking up unaccompanied is a little disheartening after such fun. Thankfully the bedroom is much warmer than last night and you stretch out delightfully strained muscles, all alone in the vast bed.

Your disappointment is soon placated by a welcome breakfast in bed from the Grandmaster, who promptly slides right back in beside you.

'Where is Shay?' You enquire as Haytham sheds his robe and curls his naked body around yours.

‘I am afraid he had an errand to run and has been called away. '

You watch the Templar with suspicious eyes. 'You planned that so you could have me all to yourself.' You tease him.

Haytham smirks smugly, leaning towards you to give you a long, lingering kiss. 'I certainly did not. However I am not complaining about the turn of events.'

Liar. It does, however, allow you the chance to spend a lazy day curled up comfy in bed with the Grandmaster. Stretched out, warm and snug, you enjoy his laugh as you lick a few stray splodges of melted butter that dripped from the edge of your toast onto his chest and stomach while he reads his newspaper.

'Shay should be back this evening.’ Haytham reassures you. ‘I'm sure he wouldn't want to miss tucking you in.' He teases, as he quite purposely scrapes the buttered side of his toast across one of your exposed nipples.

'Whoops.' The Grandmaster grins ruefully, discarding the food back to the tray and nestling himself on top of you, mouth inches from your breasts. He takes much more time than necessary slowly engulfing your breast in the warm heat of his mouth and sucking the peaking bud enthusiastically.

'I think you got it all.' You moan, fingers tangling in his dark hair and pushing his face closer to your breast, eager for more.

'Hmmm.' The replying rumble from Haytham’s mouth causes shivers all across your body as you arch up towards him leaving you in no doubt that you are his breakfast in bed.  


 

 

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Haytham’s good mood disappeared later in the evening. His increasing anxiety only fuelled your own, despite you trying to be reassuring and cheerful. Shay hadn't returned from whatever mission he was sent on, leaving the Grandmaster pacing the house restlessly and abandoning his relaxed position in bed beside you.

Eventually he was forced to send other Templars looking for him and you resignedly get dressed. You don’t know enough to help, and, other than concerned murmurs of sympathy, there is frustratingly not a lot you can do.

It wasn't until late the following afternoon and a much restless night fretting, that Shay returned, propped under the arm of a well-dressed military figure.

He looks a little worse for wear you think, watching the dark Templar in the doorway as he is ushered stiffly into the hallway.

'Colonel Munro.’ Haytham introduces the unassuming, soft spoken man, steering Shay inside. The Colonel gives you a slight nod in greeting.

'Are you alright, Shay?' The Grandmaster asks with some concern, glancing over the dirty and dishevelled appearance of the Irishman.

Shay nods far too quickly in response. 'Fine, fine.' He waves away the Colonel impatiently, but you can see the obvious limp as he tries to walk. Haytham moves to help but Shay shoos you and the Grandmaster from his side.

'It's done.' He nods to the other Templars. 'More of the bastards than I thought there would be. But the den is ours, and the assassin gang have been completely eliminated.'

Haytham and the Colonel share a pleased look, the Grandmaster practically beaming in smug pride at Shay. It was oddly affectionate.

'You sent him alone?' You mutter incredulously as you approach Shay again, who you notice is swaying slightly on his feet.

‘The boy is fine.' Haytham frowns, a small crease forming between dark eyebrows.

You gesture towards the dirty, clearly injured, Irishman. 'Does he look fine to you?'

Haytham blinks slowly, voice low but hard. ‘Shay is a Templar.'

'I didn’t realise that meant being stupid.'

You watch the strong line of the Grandmasters jaw tense, biting back his temper, but there is barely surprised fury in his tone. 'It is his job.’ He says through gritted teeth. 'And nothing to do with you.'

'I notice both of you are fine, must be nice being in charge and away from the front line.' You goad, upset that he could send someone into such danger, alone. Surely they could have sent some people with Shay? A mission such as that could have been undertaken by several of the Templars.

Monro’s pale eyebrows raise in surprise, possibly unsure how to respond to your chagrin against the Grandmaster. He glances to Haytham with a slight cough and bemused expression, removing his hat to reveal a combed white wig.

Haytham gives you a hard look, grey eyes cold, he is not happy. Obviously he doesn't get questioned a lot.

Shay squeezes your elbow in silent request to drop the issue and limps to the stairs. 'Piece of cake. Give me a few whiskeys and I'm good to go again.' He tries to murmur jovially to break the increasing uncomfortable air. There is a soft sigh as he glances up at the seemingly monumental task of climbing the stairs. Shay tries to limp up a few but his injured leg wobbles so you move to help.

He eventually swallows his pride enough to allow you to help him up the stairs, but obviously not leaning on you as much as he should.

'I'll have a word with you after my debriefing with Munro.' The Grandmaster states coolly.

'Certainly, Sir.' Shay replies half way up the first flight, arm around your shoulder.

From his tone though, you don't think that was directed at his Templar. Fine, Haytham didn't want to hear what you had to say. You weren't one of his men that would defer to him or keep your mouth shut when you thought he was wrong.

You steer Shay towards the bedroom, sitting him gently down on the bed while you get some hot water and clean linen.

‘You shouldn’t take it out on the Grandmaster, he has a lot to deal with and he’s seen his fair share of combat and injuries.’

You only huff at Shay’s attempt to play mediator. The Irishman gives you a lazy smile. ‘I’m fine, really. Part of being a Templar. We are all in danger every day.’

You ignore him and help him to stand, indicating that he should remove his clothing, buckles and straps and weapons seem to take an age to get off. You briefly wonder if Shay and Haytham use the same tailor. Is there a specialist store to get complicated Templar clothing that simultaneously screams authority and aggressiveness?

The heavy jacket and shirt come off with much wincing and eventually you simply can’t watch him struggle with the boots any longer, so move to help, despite numerous protests.

You eye Shay’s trousers as he hovers by the bed. 'Breeches off too.'

The Templar gives you a small smirk, some his usual teasing humour in those dark eyes. 'I don’t think I’m up to it, love.'

Rolling your eyes, you laugh at his playfulness. Not so badly injured after all. ‘I want to clean off your injured leg.'

'Pity.' He teases and complies, slowly inching the dark fabric down. You allow yourself a small selfish glance across his revealed body when his back is turned and he couldn’t see you. He was extremely good looking and your gaze drank in the defined contours of his body, the broad set of his shoulders, the sinewy muscles running down his back. The swell of his arse was perfection and you wanted nothing more than to run your palms and mouth over his naked body.

Finally, you manage to strip Shay down completely to get a better look at his injuries. A series of bruises and scratches litter his body. It's better than expected but the gash on his leg is nasty and the worst injury, even though it doesn’t appear to be bleeding too much now. It may need stitches to heal properly.

Shay seems reluctant to let you ask Haytham for a doctor but you make a note to ask anyway when he is out of earshot. For now you will clean and bandage it up and see how it looks later.

'Lie down.' You gently shoo him to bed and the Templar reluctantly follows orders. He cleans off his face and hands in a basin of warm water and you dip a clean cloth into the water do the rest since he is having trouble moving and reaching more difficult places.

'The last women giving me a bed bath wasn't quite so good looking.' He jokes from nestled back against the pillows, stretched out on his back.

You give Shay a gentle slap with the wet rag to behave himself and he grins. His teasing soon turns to complaints and grumbles when your prod the wound on his leg, even though you try to clean it off as gently as possible, and are forced to practically lie over his upper thigh in order to keep his leg still.

Once the Irishman is clean and bandaged, you try tucking him into bed under clean sheets but he pulls you towards him for a soft kiss. Even those small movements cause wincing. Shay looks sore and tired, and his muscles are tense.

You have an idea that might relax him and help get him off to sleep.

Slipping gently back onto the top of the bed, you kneel at Shay’s side.

'Roll over.' You encourage him, as you help him ease over onto his stomach.

The Templar regards you with a puzzled look, but does as told, eventually resting on his stomach. He folds his arms under his head and watches you warily from over his shoulder.

You run your palms lightly across his back, delighting in the warm soft skin under your touch. You dig out the bottle of oil that Haytham had produced earlier as a convenient lubricant and sniff it gently. From the light jasmine fragrance you are pretty sure that it's supposed to be massage oil. You will need to have a word with him about getting appropriate products for your fun.

Warming some between your hands you begin to rub the oil across Shay's broad shoulders. His eyes open to watch you for a few moments, deciding whether to submit to your care or not, but closes them again without comment.

You work your fingers into tense and taught muscles. His shoulders are rock hard and the skin covering them stiff from tension so you move carefully and delicately, digging thumbs into stubborn knots.

Shay's body relaxes slowly, inch by inch, small sighs of pleasure whispering from his lips on occasions. Every so often his body will jerk as you hit a particularly sensitive spot but soon melts back into a more relaxed position as his shoulders loosen and skin becomes supple. As his body moves you can see the play and bunch of defined muscles and it makes you wish you had any sort of talent for drawing.

You massage slowly down his spine to his lower back, thumbing the ridges. You are pretty sure the Templar has one or two broken ribs so don't rub too forcefully down his sides, trailing warm oiled hands lightly until goosebumps shiver over bare skin.

Shay's breathing soon becomes deep and rhythmic as you continue rubbing, body placid under your touch.

Finished with his back, with a wicked smile you trace your hands over the soft globes of his backside, affording a gentle squeeze before moving onto his legs.

The Templar chuckles deeply and shifts under you, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk as you pat his arse playfully.

Massaging down one leg then the other, you thoroughly work out the kinks in his thighs and calves. The muscles here are hard and defined, and solid under your touch, but you work languidly until his toes are splayed and wiggling in contentment.

Soon the back of Shay's body is glistening with a fine sheen of oil, and he is fully massaged and relaxed. The Templar looks comfier than when he first lay down, and most of the tension seems to have ebbed away. Leaning over, you give him a gentle kiss on the side of the cheek.

'That was wonderful, thank you.' A happy, sleepy, smile is your reward, and you are glad that you have helped sooth him a bit, but after the beating he'll probably still be sore and stiff for a few days. You could certainly maybe do this again if it will make him feel better.

Shay grabs your hand and places a soft kiss on your palm in thanks. As he stiffly rolls over from his stomach onto his back, you are treated to the pale expanse of the front of his body. There are a few scratches and bruises here too but you are more interested in those arms and chest and the meandering line of dark hair down his stomach.

Giving you a mischievous grin, Shay settles himself in a comfy position against the pillows. 'You mind doing the front too?'

You laugh softly at him. 'Oh, Shay.'

His cock is stiff and ready and rests against his hip. You glance eagerly over the dips and contours of his body, clearly exquisitely sculpted from years of hard training.

He watches you with a playful smirk. ‘That was relaxing but…also incredibly arousing at the same time.’

So much for getting him to sleep. You shouldn’t…he needs rest, but you scoot closer anyway, pouring more oil onto your palms. The man is too tempting a sight to pass up, and you don’t want to miss the opportunity to get to caress him as you like. His injuries should keep him placid and allow you to explore.

Kneeling beside the Templar you start at his shoulders, trailing your hands over and down his collar in long sweeping strokes while he lies still, breathing deeply and face a mask of relaxation.

Caressing downwards over his chest and pectoral muscles, you avoid his sides and possibly broken ribs again. Trailing across his firm tight stomach, it flutters under your touch, anticipating just how closer you are becoming to more intimate areas of his body. A slight tension is back in Shay’s muscles, not pain this time, but eagerness, as he hovers on the brink of arousal.

The Templar opens his eyes and fixes you with an amused grin when you bypass his now straining cock and work on his legs instead. He chuckles when your reach his feet and tries to move the sensitive soles away from your touch. You don’t linger there too long, not wanting to cause him too much discomfort after what he has been through today.

You work your way slowly, methodically, back up to his groin. Shay is waiting for you to touch him; you can feel him hold his breath as your exploring fingers inch closer, rubbing his inner thighs in ever tighter circles. The Irishman is utterly still and pliant under your touch, hoping for the promised pleasure from your exploring fingers.

There is a deep low sigh as your fingertips finally, lightly, trace the length of his shaft, spreading little trails of slick oil across his cock until it is glistening like the rest of his body.

Shay's eyes are closed, lips parted. His hair has come loose from its braid and fans across the white pillow. He seems different like this, vulnerable, and you reach down to give him a gentle kiss, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a smile in response.

Dipping your hands lower, you trail oiled fingers across the delicate sack of his balls, feeling the different texture of the skin there compared with his taught velveteen cock. Your hands glide easily over his skin thanks to the liquid and there is the slightest flex of his hips to match your movements.

Shay groans lowly when you wrap a palm around his shaft and squeeze firmly, hips bucking off the bed towards you. You notice his wince as he moves, that small jerk had caused far too much strain on his already battered body.

'Lie still.' You whisper against his lips, giving him another quick kiss. He tries to kiss you back but you pull away to focus on your task. If he wants this then he will need to let you move, let you do the work.

Shay stills his hips so that you can control everything with your hands, but you can see his fingertips coil into the sheets below him in effort to not move. His breathing is heavy and his cock pulses in your hands. You can practically feel his heartbeat, the blood rushing through all that hardness between your palms.

You move your hand gently at first, slowly pumping your fist up and down the length of his cock, teasing him with a soft and light touch.

He is soon slippery and slick between your fingers, glistening wetly from the light amber oil and his own arousal peaking from the tip. You add your other hand, encasing him between your palms and begin stroke harder and with a steady rhythm.

Twisting in time with your strokes, the Templar is soon groaning under you, chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants in pleasure. His cock strains even more, rock hard and impossibly warm. You can feel each vein in relief, each dip and curve of his manhood between your fingers. You add your fingers when you can tell he is close to the edge, swirling the pad of your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, smearing the sticky beads of cum leaking from him.

You are shocked to find Shay finish quickly, without warming, as small jets of white fluid erupt to coat your hand and his stomach with a low growl from the Templar’s throat, eyes closed tight and head thrown back.

You continue to massage him as deflates in your hand, leaving Shay panting hard as you continue a few quick after strokes and his cock becomes soft and pliable between your fingers.

Shay's eyes are hooded and heavy as he watches you and his smile is a little lopsided. He looks as if he could go to sleep at any minute. A job well done if you do say so yourself.

You clean your hands, and him, off with the now tepid water, and he pulls you down towards him for a deep probing kiss. 'Take the dress off.'

Laughing, you simply tuck him under the blanket. He is in no state for sex and looks ready to pass out. You don't doubt that he would try though, but this was about his pleasure for a change and will hopefully have him drifting off into a happier, more relaxed sleep.

'Go to sleep, Shay.'

The Irishman puts up protest by nuzzling your neck, trailing warm kisses across your skin when you lean over him, but you slip off the bed quickly before he can try tugging you down beside him.

His eyes are already closing and breathing heavier as you reach the door.

You meet Haytham in the hallway as you slip quietly out of the bedroom, leaving Shay to sleep.

'How is Shay?' The Grandmaster enquires with concern.

You shrug delicately, unsure as to whether the Grandmaster is still hurting over your little spat downstairs, and not entirely sure if you have forgiven him for sending Shay out into that situation in the first place. 'He’s ok, a little sore, but drifting off to sleep.'

'Good.' Haytham murmurs with a warm, relieved smile before his brow creases in confusion and he draws closer to you. 'What's that on your hands? Is that oil?'

You wipe your hands down the front of your dress brushing off the remains that you had not successfully washed off, there's a few splatters of blood and dirt already on your clothing so it will need to be washed anyway. You give Haytham a sheepish look. 'I, uh, gave Shay a massage.'

He smirks in that infuriating fashion of his, one eyebrow raised. 'Do I get a massage?' He purrs lowly in that deep, posh voice.

'Shay earned his.' You tease, only to find yourself deliciously pinned against the wall by the Grandmasters warm muscled body. Your breath hitches as his lips find your neck and begins kissing a distracting line downwards and your thighs clench in response. You had been happy to provide some pleasure and relief for Shay but the massage had aroused you as well and you were left a little dissatisfied.

'That reminds me of your attitude earlier.’ Haytham breathes against your bare skin. ‘Subordination in the order is punished you know.'

You shiver against him, biting your lip to fight back the low moan of pleasure as his lips sweep a sensitive spot at your pulse. 'Good thing I'm not in the order then.'

'Under my roof you are part of the order.' He threatens dangerously with a gently bite the leaves your eyes fluttering closed and body sagging against the wall being you.

Haytham continues to drive you to distraction with just that skilful mouth on your throat. You are willing to forgive his temper earlier if he will just keep doing this.

Your eyes flutter open to unexpectedly find a second dark gaze meeting your own, appearing a little shocked at that.

'Haytham!' You hiss, but he is too busy licking a wet line from your collar to chin. You nudge the Grandmaster more sharply on the shoulder. His dilated pupils have a little trouble focusing but you nod over his shoulder and that cool grey gaze follows yours. He spots the imposing figure of Colonel Munro standing behind him and gives you a sheepish grin as he failingly attempts to straighten himself into his normal regal posture.

Turning to face the other man the Grandmaster murmurs 'Colonel. How can I help you?'

You snigger softly at the clear effect of his arousal in his voice; Haytham shoots you an unimpressed glare in response and you are tempted to stick your tongue out at him but manage to restrain yourself in the face of the Colonel’s obvious discomfort.

'We are just leaving, Sir, I’ll…err, show myself out.' Munro stammers with a quick glance your way. He doesn't seem sure where to look. He hands Haytham a bundle of papers and mutters something about the next target, before giving you a small, stiff bow from the waist and nod to Haytham as he turns and heads back downstairs.

Haytham turns to you with a small smirk. 'You'll get me in trouble.' He murmurs wryly.

You scoff in response. 'If you can't keep control of yourself then that's not my problem, _Sir_.'

His body is suddenly back pinning you back against the wall, mouth on yours fiercely. You response equally as hotly, drinking down the smooth taste of him, pushing against that broad muscled body.

Fingers curl around your wrist and tighten painfully until you let out a small noise of protest in to the Templars mouth. He pulls away regarding you with a long predatory look and a smirk. 'So, punishment...'

Haytham drags you easily across the corridor, opens the door to one of the spare bedrooms in the vast, sprawling, townhouse and practically throws you inside. The door gets kick shut sharply behind him.

Deliberately slowly, the Grandmaster stalks around the outside of the room removing his jacket and waistcoat.

Your pulse hammers in your throat when he rolls white shirtsleeves up, revealing muscled forearms. He grins at you, fixing you with a predatory sexual look and licking his lips.

You watch Haytham amused, for a moment, wondering if he is channelling Charles Lee. Your gaze flicks to the closed door and he smirks.

'You wouldn't make it.' The Grandmaster drawls confidently.

Laughing, you try anyway, darting to the door only to be intercepted halfway there with strong arms wrapping around your waist and almost lifting you off of your feet. Haytham's lips descend to your neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there, leaving you moaning and wriggling in his embrace.

A warm palm slips under your skirt inching upwards between your legs. He easily strips your underwear away one handed, leaving you bare and exposed and shivering in lust.

Haytham walks backwards with you cradled tight against him until he is sitting on the bed. With a final quick kiss to your lips you find yourself pushed across his lap, face down and arse in the air, squirming as the Grandmaster rolls your skirt up past your waist and cool air caresses your bare skin.

Warm palms glide over the curve of your arse, caressing delicately, leaving your skin tingling and you panting for more.

As you glance over your shoulder at Haytham, knowing what is likely to come next given past experiences, he gives you a look of enjoyment that you normally see on Charles when he is contemplating this.

The first smack is soft, barely anything at all but you still squeak in shock, body bucking against the Templars lap. You give the Grandmaster an insolent smirk across your shoulder and are rewarded with another sharper smack across your backside so that you can feel blood rushing to the abused area and your skin warming nicely.

'You punish your men like this?' You moan between another smack and soothing caress of his palm

Haytham fixes you with a meltingly sexy grin. 'I'm thinking of starting.'

Instead of humorous you find the mental image of the Grandmaster doing this to Shay or Bill or Charles and incredibly erotic one. What you wouldn’t give to watch one of them undergo the same treatment. Maybe he’ll let you watch? You could broach the subject the next time you had another one of them in bed.

Haytham entertains himself with a few more spanks, rubbing his palms soothingly across your skin between each. As he idly strokes, the fingers of his other hand dip lower between your legs and through the soft folds of your pussy. You shiver in response, flexing your hips, silently begging for more contact.

His hands are slightly cooler against your hot stinging backside as he gently caresses your cheek with one; the fingers of his other hand trail their way lower, coating themselves in the increasing wetness from your body. The touch of him at your most intimate area has you writhing on his lap, it earns you another spank but at this moment you don’t care, both actions bringing delicious pleasure. Probing fingers delve lower again, the nail of his index finger scrapes over the hood of your clit in a teasing manner, before trailing its way back. His fingers almost slip inside of you on their journey and you are left whimpering in protest when they miss.

You can feel Haytham eager under you, erection digging into your stomach. Squirming in his lap must be driving him insane; you muse, but if there is one thing that the Grandmaster is, is completely disciplined. Thick fingers lazily slide back to your clit and he begins circling the hard nub gently, almost torturously slowly, and driving you completely crazy.

Wiggling your hips does nothing to encourage his almost glacial pace. He takes his time working you into a state of dripping arousal, hips thrusting backwards seeking the pleasure of his fingers penetrating you. Just when his denial was becoming too much to bear, Haytham’s two forefingers slide effortlessly into your wet pussy and your inner muscles clamp down, tightening around the invading digits as he caresses your inner walls, exploring, probing, searching for just the right spot. Your back arches in Haytham’s lap. You don’t even need to look up at him; you can practically feel his smug smile as he knows he has found the spot he was looking for, working over it with his fingers in a come-hither motion.

Your hips move against his lap with abandon as hands work over you. A delightful pressure is building low in your abdomen with every caress; you are so very, very, close.

You cum with a low moan, body tense and shaking on the Grandmasters knee. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers as they continue to tease you through your orgasm.

Panting, you sag in his lap, resting your forehead against his thigh for a moment and trying unsuccessfully to disentangle your legs. As the thudding pulse in your ear abates you can hear that Haytham is a little out of breath too, panting in eagerness and fingers tightly coiled around your bare hips eager for more.

The Grandmaster helps you up from his lap and you almost stumble, orgasm weak knees unable to hold you.

You straddle his thighs, pressing the line of your body against his, mouth seeking his in a searing kiss. Nothing maters more than feeling of more of him against you, and he is wearing far too many clothes as for as you are concerned.

Wiggling a hand down the front of Haytham’s breeches, you enjoy his low, feral groan of pleasure at the contact, the way his lips part and eyes drift closed as you begin to stroke him with long, slow, caresses.

His hips buck, desperately seeking more contact, more friction and you can’t help but smirk, it is the Grandmasters turn to writhe for you.

Haytham helps by raising his arms as you drag the loose, billowy, white shirt off his body, eager to have that pale, slightly scared, torso bared under your touch. He tries to get you out of the rest of your clothing too but you slide your palms over his broad shoulders and fit your body as close as possible to him, practically curling in his lap.

Loosening his trousers enough to twist his cock free, you to sink onto the Templar slowly, enjoying the achingly slow descent until his cock sheath inside of you.

Haytham groans low in his throat and bites his lip when you settle in his lap, you can feel the resulting vibration through his chest and his fingers dig sharply into your bare skin when you give him a playful squeeze with your inner muscles.

Wrapping your arms around the Grandmaster’s neck, his hands slip under your clothing to cup your backside firmly and pull you towards him as you buck and rock on his lap. He tries to control the movements and you can feel every muscle in his body strain in effort, but it’s your turn to direct him this time, you are on top and have too much leverage.

You push Haytham down onto the bed until he is sprawled on his back, grinning at you while you remain upright, using your hips to raise yourself up and back down onto him. You can feel the Grandmaster dig his heels in, trying to flip your positions so that he can roll you over and be on top, but you pin his hands to the bed instead.

Haytham chuckles lowly, letting you have you way, and turns his attention to nuzzling and kissing his way along your neck and jawline instead. When his mouth inches its way down to your breasts and manages to nuzzle one of your nipples free so that he can capture it in his mouth, your rhythm on his lap falters.

Determined to stay in control, you grind against him, using your thighs and hips to draw him closer to the edge of orgasm, loving the breathy pants issuing from his lips and the fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. You adore watching this uptight, aristocratic man come undone and let go of all his cares and worries for just a few moments.

His orgasm triggers your own, feeling him quiver and still inside of you, finger tips digging into your hips and a low inarticulate male grunt issues from his lips.

Moving on top of him, the thought of Haytham cumming inside of you, unable to stop his reaction has you gasping for breath and practically collapsing on his chest, body locked in an almost painful position and unable to move.

You don’t feel like moving and Haytham seems in no hurry to slide you from your position on top of him. You can feel his breath whisper down your neck as it slows to normal and his fingers release their death grip on your hips to idly stroke.

‘I’m still pissed at you.’ You mutter into his ear.

The Grandmaster snorts amusedly and you feel his body shake with laughter.

'And here was me thinking you were making it up to me.’ He mocks.

You swat him on the shoulder as you finally manager to get your legs working enough to roll off of him to lie on the bed.

‘Shall we join Shay in bed?’ Haytham asks, fingers sliding along your bare tight as he curls you closer to his body.

‘He is probably best sleeping for tonight.’

‘Undisturbed.’ You add, at the gleam in Haytham's eye.

‘I wasn’t planning on taxing him.’ The Grandmaster chuckles. ‘But he may appreciate someone being there if he wakes up.’

He has a point, you wouldn’t want Shay to wake all alone up and think that you and Haytham had left for another room just so that you could have fun without him.

‘I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.’ You tease, earning you the Grandmaster’s usual smirk.

After several moments rest, Haytham struggles back into all his layers of clothing while you contemplate having a small nap on top of the bed that currently seems far comfier than it should.

‘I’ll finish what work I have left to do if you would check on Shay for me. I’ll be in bed shortly.’

As you slide off of the bed and straighten your own clothing you watch the Templar collect your discarded underwear. Rather than hand them to you he tucks them into his pocket.

‘Where do you think you are going with those?’

He grins in response. ‘I wonder if I leave them on my desk or somewhere conspicuous, how long it would take Munro to have a heart attack.’

‘Haytham.’ You admonish him. ‘You wouldn’t’

He smirks and you can see him clearly finger the fabric tucked away in his pocket.

‘Possibly not…any more of your cheek though, and I might.’

You aim a pillow at his head which he easily avoids by ducking out the door laughing. ‘Careful and not waken poor Shay.’


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fresh round of Poker with the Templars ensues. Don't count on getting to actually play the game though, they much more fun in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More poker games and dares, all boys so far get to join in, Haytham, Shay, Charles, William and Thomas.

 

 

The return trip from New York was much more entertaining than the one going, probably due to the fact that Shay was now more receptive to your advances. If Quartermaster Gist had anything to say about your residency in the Captain’s cabin then he wisely kept that to himself.

You didn’t get much of a chance to see if the man still flirted shamelessly, Shay was happy to keep you busy, and without any of the other Templars on board it meant you got some fun alone time with the ex-assassin.

Haytham was unfortunately forced to stay in New York, and you hated saying goodbye and leaving him, but he promised that he would be back to Boston in no time. You will definitely be holding him to his word.

On return home you were pleased to note that you had been missed, and an invitation extended to the next poker night that the boys intended on holding. Most of their business wrapped up, and with Haytham expected back at the end of the week, they could get back to some fun relaxation.

Then again, you were not sure how relaxing the next game may be. The last one had been pretty…exhausting, but in a really good way. With a bit of luck there would be a repeat performance.

 

 

 

Poker night has been moved to William Johnson’s estate this time, you had a feeling that more private venues would likely be on the cards as long as you consented to join them. Well, you couldn’t get up to half the fun in a public place as you could when all alone with them.

You are greeted with a warm, passionate, kiss from William that just about takes your breath away. Hickey can't resist joining in either, but his hands are a little more wandering. You shake your head in humour as the more inebriated Templar gives you a playful wink.

'We are just waiting on everyone else.' William informs you as he pours you a drink and gives you a small tour of his home. The tour consisted of kisses in every room and warm hands pulling you close to his larger body, before unfortunately realising that you had left Hickey to his own devices for far too long.

The Grandmaster arrives eventually, with his usual air of nonchalance and Shay in tow, both looking pleased to see you. You wonder if poor Shay was forced to go back and collect Haytham from New York after he returned with you.

You quickly lose interest as Haytham provides William with an outline of work completed whilst he was in New York. While they chat order business, you notice that Hickey isn’t bothering to listen either, you feel that he probably should, it is part of his job after all, but instead regales you with amusing tales of drunken exploits.

You have been sitting around a large table, laid out with the entertainment for the evening. Hickey shuffles the card expertly between his fingers, performing a few tricks, and you find yourself mesmerised by the skilful movement of those long dexterous digits. So much so you completely miss what Haytham asked you.

Hickey chuckles at your distraction and gives you a mischievous wink, thumbing the cards in a rather obscene manner.

'Has any one heard from Charles?' The Grandmaster enquires again, with a slightly more worried tone.

The group soon realise that you have been idly sitting drinking, chatting, and waiting for Lee for quite some time. He is uncharacteristically late.

Shaking your head, you hadn't seen Lee since you were at his home all those weeks ago.

‘Charles seemed fine a few days ago, Sir.' Johnson comments a little uneasily. 'He said he was still very eager to join us.'

There is suddenly an apprehensive tension in the air. Given the boys profession, it would be all too easy for something to happen to Charles.

'Maybe those fluff-ball dogs turned on ‘im.' Hickey jokes, but Haytham responds with an icy, unimpressed look. Now is not the time to be joking when one of your colleagues may be dead, even if you were not particularly fond of them, and Thomas had sounded far too hopeful at the prospect.

 

 

It is another tense half hour before Charles turns up. You never thought you would be _that_ glad to see him, but the relief is palatable when he arrives unharmed and just his usual arrogant self. However even Charles seems most surprised at the upset fury that greets him when he walks through the door and the other Templars demand to know where he has been.

'Apologies, I was collecting something.' He seems genuinely puzzled at the amount of worry over him.

You notice a large white box under his arm but Lee makes no comment on it further, and places it down on a small nearby table. He removes his gloves and coat, leaving him in bare shirt sleeves and tight waistcoat, and your gaze is already drinking over the curves of his body, eager to get this game started.

'So.' Charles purrs with a smirk in your direction as he takes his place at the table. 'Enjoy yourself in New York?'

You simper sarcastically at his teasing tone.

'Did you actually see any sights, or did you spend it in...bed?' He scoffs with a pointed look at Shay.

To think you were actually worried about the man’s safety a few moments ago. You know Lee’s haughty jibes too well and realise that he is trying to get a reaction from you so take no notice, but you can feel Shay bristle beside you. Scooting your chair deliberately closer to the Irishman, you keep your gaze fixed on Charles, giving him a small smirk and a little roll of your eyes that you know he will find insolent and _hate_.

'I was far too busy. I had _a lot_ of motivation to stay in bed.' You laugh softly in the face of Lee’s dark look, leaning in towards Shay, who gives a confused look between you and Charles, but soon realising that you are both just teasing one another.

'Yes, well, now that we are all here who's for a game of poker?' William tries to solicitously smooth things over and get the game back on track. It had been a while since you actually played poker with the Templars and you wonder how long it might last this time before things become much more…intimate. 'You missed the first game, Shay.' Haytham says matter of factly, as he pours generous glasses of whiskey around the table. 'Although I think you may have caught the aftermath of the last one.' He murmurs with an amused glance in your direction.

You stare from Haytham to Shay wondering what the Grandmaster was talking about.

'Shay arrived at my home with the Grandmaster last time, and witnessed you ah, curled up in my lap.' Charles offers in explanation.

Oh. You had been too tired and exhausted from that rather intense sex session that you hadn't even realised that Haytham had arrived and was the one escorting you to bath and bed. You were so happy to see him that you completely didn’t wonder where Shay had come from. Of course he must have arrived with Haytham, and he clearly walked in on you…you can feel your cheeks redden at the thought of first introductions to the Irishman was your mostly naked body, limp form the amount of positively delightful sex, dozing with three men.

Shay's lip quirks as those dark eyes glint in humour.

'The rules are very simple.' Haytham presses. 'Instead of money, the winner of the round gets to pick a forfeit or dare for one, or several, of the losers.'

Shay's eyes widen in surprise and you catch him quickly glancing in your direction beside him.

Haytham smirks, sliding a glass across the table towards the new boy. 'You understand then, how this fun little arrangement came about, Mr Cormac.'

Hickey cuts the deck and starts dealing the first round as Shay clears his throat heavily.

Well he hasn’t gotten up and ran away, that’s a good sign.

'Might I remind you.' Haytham mutters, a little more seriously. 'That we have all evening, and it would be most...unfair, to pick on individuals.'

You were a little glad that the Grandmaster decided to set a few ground rules. As fun as all the sexual activities had been last time, there were five of them and only one of you. Things could get pretty intense very quickly. It's not that you were not desperately keen to have sex with anyone of them again, but it would be nice to ease into it.

Most of the Templars seem to be nodding their agreement with the Grandmaster, but Hickey sniggers and gives you a leering smirk. 'A bit o' build up before dessert is always good.'

You smile sweetly at him. 'Unless you want to be kissing Mr Lee again, Thomas, I would try and be on your best behaviour.'

Hickey laughs loudly at your threat, and the other Templars chuckle in good humour. You like to remind them you are not their play thing and you will be more than happy to give as good as you get.

 

 

 

They are all being incredibly well behaved. You can feel the tension in the air around the table as they try to act nonchalant but they want sex, hell you are desperate for sex, but no one seems eager to make the first move because when they do the game will likely get out of hand. It's just waiting for that little bubble to burst and someone to lose their patience.

You have consumed quite a few shots of potent whiskey as a result of the more tame challenges, so if things don't move on from chaste to erotic quickly then you might not be in any state to continue, and you really hope the Templars haven’t drunk too much.

Thomas has been made to sing, or should that be slur, some ludicrous song about a prostitute with a wooden leg, loudly, for an entire round.

Shay, you were surprised to learn, could speak Gaelic. You had no idea what he was saying but it sounded pretty. He wasn't allowed to speak English until he won a round and _that_ had led to some amusing hand gestures as he tried in vain to communicate that he wanted another drink.

So far Charles has also received a foot massage from a grumbling Hickey and William a kiss on the cheek from an amusingly blushing Shay. You were sorry that it wasn’t you.

The heat of the room, and alcohol, had resulted in the shedding of several layers of clothing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on cards when you had so many attractive men sitting around in tight waistcoats or bare shirtsleeves. There was just a peak of dark tattoo on Thomas’ forearm where his sleeve had been rolled up revealing sinewy muscle, and there was a little triangle of pale skin at the hollow of the Grandmasters throat from his removed cravat that was begging to have your mouth nibble along. You really wanted the touch of them on your body, and soon, or you might have to just start demanding they take more clothes off like last time. You are fidgeting in your seat, an uncomfortable build-up of arousal between your legs as another round is won. Haytham had cautioned against getting over excited too quickly, but this was ridiculous.

Charles, however, smirks at you across the table, wetting his lips deliberately slowly. You can tell by the gleam in his eye a dare is coming your way. Trust lee to make the first move. And rather than chide him, he certainly deserves a nice reward this time.

William gives Charles a pointed look. 'You were warned to behave.'

You give William a reassuring smile and small wink. Everyone _had_ been well behaved, for an achingly long period of time, but now you are looking for them to misbehave.

'Relax, Bill.' Charles murmurs. 'All I want her to do is to try on the dress that I bought.'

You were about to complain at the tameness of the request but were far too astonished. Really? Charles bought you a dress?

You glance across the table, surprise clear on your face. So that was what was in the package that he was carrying.

Charles slides the wide, flat white box is your direction across the table.

Lifting the lid, you peak inside to get a glimpse of a mountain of silky fabric. It looks lovely from what you can see but something must be off. Charles looks far too smug and he is practically bouncing in his chair in anticipation.

Despite everyone in the room having seen you naked, you still hold onto a little sliver of dignity and slip out the room to the hallway to change.

Lifting yards of beautiful sapphire blue silk from the box you quickly become aware the reason for Lee's amusement and laugh inwardly, that bastard.

The long flowing skirt is much shorter at the front than back where it almost sweeps the floor. If you were to cross your legs the wrong way the whole room would likely get a flash of your exposed crotch. The bodice section is tight and form fitting, lacing up the front with black silk. The cups at the breasts are so shallow your nipples are nearly visible and delicate black lace brushes them to stimulated peaks. It offers nothing more than a frame for your breasts, and, if you were to stretch even slightly then you would be completely exposed. You twirl in the fabric admiring yourself in the long mirror. The dress is beautiful but designed with only one purpose in mind. No wonder Charles looked so eager, somehow the dress is more obscene than if you had simply been naked.

Sighing, you smooth down the short front. You will just have to play Mr Lee at his own game, and you were rather keen to move on to some more intimate activities, so you remove your underwear from under the dress and saunter back into the room.

You are met with unabashed stares from the Templars as you stroll back to your seat, trying in vain to ignore the stimulating caress of lace across your nipples and focusing on not tripping over the long hem at the back of the dress.

Charles smirks mischievously, green eyes dark and hungry looking. 'Fits perfectly, if I do say so myself.'

William rolls his eyes at him but not before a quick, sweeping glance of your body.

Haytham's cool grey gaze wanders slowly and intimately over every inch of you and you are blushing hard by the time his eyes finally meet yours. 'I don't even want to know where you would even get something like that.' He states to Charles, amusement clear in his voice.

Lee only grins, smoothing down his dark moustache with his fingers, his eye catching yours across the table.

There is a soft snort from Hickey. 'You realise you are getting payback for this, right?'

'Oh I hope so.' Lee's voice is a low barely audible growl that has your pulse thudding and shifting in your seat.

William and Shay are the only two with eyes resolutely on yours but you can see the strain in desperately trying not to look down your exposed body. You catch Shay casting supercilious glances at you from the corner of your eye and smirk, the game is back on track nicely.

The winner of the next round has been revealed while you were busy changing, and they all look at William expectantly, no doubt expecting something more involved.

William rolls his eyes, glancing across the table at you, and smiles briefly. 'I would like a kiss.'

Hickey scoffs in response. 'Unless you’re kissing elsewhere than ‘er mouth, you’re so boring, Bill.'

He ignores Hickey taunting, those light blue eyes focused on you. William’s look is hot and full of passion, despite the serene smirk of his lips. 'Just a kiss will do.' His voice is low, soft, barely any infliction in it at all but the glint in his eye has you squirming in need and heart racing.

'Sure.' You say, trying not to sound eager, and slide from your seat to walk towards his. No doubt, and thanks to Lee's dress, all the other pairs of eyes watching you are getting quite a show.

A large warm palm slips around your waist as you near, and gently pulls you down to his lap while his other hand gently cups your face towards him.

William’s kiss is restrained, chaste, but somehow you feel it all the way down to your toes. Warm lips pressed against you, his tongue gently strokes yours in a slow rhythmic dance. His beard is thick and soft under your fingertips and you sigh in contentment, melting against the front of his body.

Johnson is a very good kisser, you can't quite pinpoint why, but every nerve ending tingles and the air is charged with sexual tension with just a brief caress. A hand rests warmly against your thigh, thumb just brushing back and forth gently causing untold distraction as you year for it to slide just a little higher between your legs. You are really wishing that the Templar had asked for more than a kiss.

William smiles at you, pressing a few fluttering kisses against your throat as he helps slide you out of his lap.

'Thank you.' He says solicitously.

You find yourself grinning back at his general politeness. 'You're welcome.'

By the time you sit back down in your seat all Templar eyes are on you, some a little uncomfortable looking, as if they witnessed something much more intimate than a chaste kiss.

Hickey gives Johnson an appraising look. 'Damn. You need to teach me to do that. She looked like she would have given you anything not to stop.'

William smirks at Hickey with a slight, disbelieving shake of his head. 'It doesn't have to be rough and dirty to be pleasurable.'

Charles gives him a venomous look but you couldn't care at their little squabbles, still warm and happy in afterglow. You can feel the hot flush across your cheeks with just that kiss and are well on your way to being shamefully wet already.

 

 

 

You are definitely going to have to brush up on your poker skills. Not that losing isn’t providing enormous fun, but it would be nice to order the boys are around for a while.

The Grandmaster is currently smirking in triumph, his cool grey eyes sweeping over you. You expected him to be the sensible one, he usually was, and it _was_ his idea to take the game slowly. But that plan seems to have been discarded completely as he licks his lips slowly with a devilish look.

'I’ll let you choose a forfeited for the next round, even if you do not win. On the condition...'

You lean forwards in your seat as his voice lowers intimately, biting your lip in eagerness.

Haytham pauses, glancing at the other men as if choosing a victim, finally settling with a gleam on Hickey. 'You can use any method you like to make Thomas cum. Get him to lose control by the time we finish the next round and you can pick your dare in return.'

You blink slowly, digesting the rapid change in direction from the Grandmaster. There is no way Haytham just said what you think he said. He was the one that wanted a more sedate game than last time. You briefly wonder if Thomas or Charles have learned to throw their voice, because it seems so much more like something that they would tease you with rather than the stoic Grandmaster. His men must be rubbing off on him.

Squirming in excitement, you glance at Hickey. The Templar seems equally stunned at the turn of events but he grins at you. 'No chance, love.'

Oh, now those were the wrong words to choose. There's nothing like a challenge to draw out your competitive spirit. You eye Hickey hungrily formulating your plan of attack. You have maybe five to ten minutes by the time the Templars finish the next round, you would need to work quickly.

'Fucking hell.' Shay murmurs softly in disbelief when you slip out your chair in Hickey’s direction, as if he can't quite believe you would even take on the dare.

Thomas smirks at you as you approach him, sprawled cat like on his chair. Dark brown eyes sparkle in humour. 'You're not going to win this one, love.'

You smirk back at him, licking your lips slowly and leaning forwards enough for your breasts to fall from the front of the low dress. His smile falters and gaze wanders your exposed skin. His pupils are already dilated and you can see the outline of his stiff cock against his breeches.

William chuckles beside him. 'I wouldn't be so sure of that, Tom.'

Slipping your hand down the front of his body, you caress the outline of his cock through dark brown woollen breeches. Hickey is already hard and straining at the fabric. Sighing softly at your touch, hips jerk towards the source of their pleasure.

Grinning, you quickly try to decide on the best way to make him lose control in the short time that you have. Mouth is probably the best way to go.

Glancing over your shoulder, Haytham has begun dealing the cards; you will need to work quickly.

Thomas isn't looking quite so smug when you sink to your knees in front of him. You take a few moments to tease him, rubbing his thighs and the outline of his erection through his clothing before loosening the fastenings to slip his cock free into your hand. His skin is so warm and soft and there is the slightest groan as you spill him into your palm and squeeze gently.

The Templar shifts in his seat, making himself comfortable and his eyes flutter closed at your caress. This won’t do at all; you need his eyes open, Thomas needs to watch what you are doing to him as the visual will push him over the edge so much more quickly.

You lick him, slowly, paying particular attention to the sensitive underside at the head until his flushed-pink cock is wet and glistening with your saliva. Breathing warm breath across him has Hickey shivering under you and straining against your lips. 

You whimper lowly to get his attention and Thomas makes the mistake of opening his eyes and glancing down at you between his legs. His dark brown gaze is unwavering as you keep your eyes locked on him and slip him into your mouth.

The Templar let's out a deep groan of pleasure at your actions, and his hips flex under you, pushing him just that little bit deeper into your mouth. You take as much if him as possible and wrap a palm around the base, ensuring that his erection is engulfed in heat.

Using your lips, and tongue, and hands, you make sure that the stimulation is endless, until he is panting hard and body quivering in tension.

You faintly hear the Grandmasters amused voice somewhere behind you. 'Are you in or out, Bill?'

Glancing sideways you can just make out Johnson; far too busy watching what you are doing to Hickey to bother with his cards. Your eye catches his and he licks his lips looking flustered, blush spreading all the way down his cheeks to his dark beard. 'I'm, uh, in.' He drags his gaze from you to try and focus on the cards and you hear the distinct sound of Haytham’s deep chuckle. Good, the more distracted they are then the longer the game will last, and longer you have to ensure that Thomas doesn't win this.

Fingers tangle in your hair in eager encouragement as your tongue laps the length of Thomas’ cock with every bob of your head. You feel the tension and strain in his muscles, he is very close, you can feel it.

Pressing closer between his thighs, rubbing your breasts against his legs allowing the coarse fabric to tickle your bare skin, you whimper lowly, hoping that the excited noises encourage the Templar into losing control that much more quickly. He can’t take his eyes off you, the sight of his flesh disappearing into yours, and you slip your free hand down your body between your legs to tease yourself, making sure that Hickey is well aware of your actions and has a nice view of your pleasuring yourself.

It does the trick and soon your mouth is filed with the sharp, salty tang of his cum as Thomas releases with a gruff _'fuck'_ issued from gritted teeth.

You get to watch, amusedly, as Thomas tries to compose himself, and, even better, the rest of the Templar's are still finishing their round.  They may have taken a little longer than normal thanks to voyeuristic breaks, but either way, you win.

Charles tsks. ‘No discipline.' He jibes, as Hickey runs a palm over his face and grabs a long drink of his ale.

'Pffft not sure that was actually a loss though.' Thomas teases with a smirk in your direction and helps you from your knees to your feet with a parting kiss.

You wander back to your seat feeling uncomfortably aroused. You could really use some of that. You have just won a dare for that little performance, so perhaps one of the boys could take care of the increasing need between your legs.

The Grandmasters smirks at you as you slip back into your seat. He is looking far too edible sitting in rumpled shirtsleeves and half removed clothing. You ponder your payback since you have a forfeit to name. Perhaps you could see if you could last longer under Haytham’s talented tongue, more than Hickey managed with you at any rate.

‘Well, you were promised a challenge of your own. Any suggestions?’ Haytham drawls and you are tempted to tell him that your suggestion is that he gets on his knees this time, but consider your options carefully. A little payback for Charles is in order, you think. Not only for tonight, and the scandalously revealing dress he put you in, but for the previous events at his manor. He spent hours torturing you, denying you release and you owed him for that.

‘I’ll sit this round out.’ You purr, gaze fixed on Charles.

The Grandmaster raises a suspicious eyebrow but says nothing. Most of the Templars are still mocking Hickey for his rather hasty finish.

‘What will you be doing while you sit out?’ Shay leans close, warm breath tickling down your neck.

‘Entertaining myself.’

You slip out your seat and sway your hips seductively heading in Charles Lee’s direction.

He looks surprised but smirks evilly, eyebrow raised, as you close the space to his seat.

You are aware of the intense gaze of the rest of the Templars on the back of your neck as you straddle lee’s lap facing him, catching his hungry look when he realises that you have no underwear on thanks to the revealing front of the dress.

Strong, thick fingers curl around your hips to pull you closer, but you swat them away. 'You are not allowed to touch me.'

Charles smirks, an infuriating little twitch of his moustache, but drops his hands back to his sides as you wriggle closer, making yourself comfortable on his lap. You want to wipe that smirk off his face, and quickly.

You grind on his lap, rotating your hips slowly, so that your centre rubs against the front of Lee’s body. Charles is already rock hard, cock stiff and straining against the front of his breeches, so you rub your clit against him, rocking back and forth so that the coarse fabric scrapes across the sensitive hardened nub.

Hands grip your waist to help, or hinder.

‘Hands.’ You warn and Charles is forced to let you go again, green eyes flashing dangerously. He is not a man that likes getting told what to do.

Lee wriggles under you, panting heavily, raising his hips just a little, no doubt trying to increase his own pleasure, but the friction against your clit as you rub yourself along him only intensifies and forces you to bite your lip in concentration.

Fingers flex at his sides, itching to touch you. Small beads of sweat have gathered across Charles’ temples and he leans forwards, trying to catch your lips with his own, but you turn your head at the last moment, smirking at the small frustrated growl from low in his throat.

You moan and writhe on him, exaggerating the noises loudly, making sure he knows that you are enjoying yourself thoroughly. Behind you the card game could be continuing, or they could all be watching your display on Lee’s lap for all you care. All you want is the ultimate selfish pleasure of your own release.

And to torment Charles, just a little.

You kiss him, firmly, fiercely, tongue snaking into his mouth to dance with his before pulling away just quickly, leaving Charles groaning at the loss of contact, eyes hooded and excited.

You can feel your orgasm approach with every buck across his groin, your stiff and aching clit shuddering in stimulation. Playing with your nipples, you run your fingertips across the peaking buds right in front of Lee’s face as an extra torment.

He wants it, tongue running along his lips as he watches every small move you make, trying to lean forwards a little in his chair to kiss you, or run his lips across your neck or breasts but you remain frustratingly out of reach and he can’t use his hands to drag you closer.

Shuddering on his lap, you cum, soaking the tight front of his breeches. Your body tingles from its pleasure, the lace decorating the bodice of your dress assaults your already sensitive nipples leaving you moaning lowly, overstimulated.

Lee leans forwards to kiss you, pupils dilated and cock practically twitching between your legs. Pulling yourself together, you smirk and slip quickly off his lap before his lips can connect with your skin.

Your legs are a little shaky after that very pleasant orgasm but you try and steady yourself, controlling your ragged breathing as you head back to your seat.

The other Templars look partly turned on at your actions, and also partly amused at your treatment of Charles.

Hickey and Johnson don’t quite manage to hide their wide smirks, obviously happy you got your own back.

Charles looks at you darkly across the table, clearly aroused but unsatisfied. See how he likes a taste of his own medicine, and judging by the mutinous look; he doesn't like it one bit. But he finally chuckles deeply with a nod in your direction. 'Touché, madam.'

No doubt Charles will come up with something equally as interesting to tease you with, but you can’t worry about that now with your heart still racing and muscles having that pleasurably lethargic feel to them.

Back to the card game to see what other delights you can get out the Templars tonight.

 

 

 

You have won another round, hurrah! Now what to do to them?

They are all very attractive men. Your dare previously to have Thomas kiss Charles was only in fun to torment the uptight Mr Lee, but now you think on it...

‘Have, err…' You fight not to blush as they all sit awaiting your dare patiently. 'Have any of you ever slept with another man?' You hope you didn't sound too eager for dirty juicy details.

There are some uncomfortable shifts around the table as their gaze darts away from yours.

Haytham shrugs nonchalantly. 'I have.'

Every pair of eyes turns to him, a few with looks of shock.

The Grandmaster chuckles. 'Call it my experimental youth.' His gaze turns hotly in your direction. 'Why?' He teases.

You almost can't meet those cool Grey unabashed eyes. 'I'd like to...watch.'

Haytham raises an eyebrow, smirking at you. 'So for your forfeit you want to watch me have sex with another man?'

You nod eagerly. 'Well, I mean, any of you. Whoever is comfortable with it. I'm not going to make you do anything you wouldn't do normally.'

Hickey shakes his head. 'Sorry love, men ain't my thing.'

Shay's distinct Irish voice practically caresses your ears. 'To be honest I’ve never thought about it. Never looked much at other men.'

William shrugs. 'I have no problem with it my dear. '

Haytham and William? You play the scenario over in your mind feeling heat rise in your cheeks and moisture flood between your legs, that little scenario could be dammed hot.

'Charles?' Haytham enquires in a deep purring tone.

Lee has remained quiet, he looks hesitant. His reaction to Hickey’s kiss had been extreme. You assumed that men would not hold appeal to him either but Haytham grins predatorily. 'I think Charles would be an interesting choice.'

'I have never, I don't think...' You can see Charles becoming flustered.

'Myself and Charles will fulfil your request.' The Grandmaster presses.

Lee scrambles to obey Haytham’s every word like an over excited puppy, and watches the man like a hawk. You don't think that Charles would have agreed to fuck just any other man, but it would appear that the Grandmaster is the exception.

Charles gives Haytham a funny look, but you can tell he is a little excited and trying to hide it. He nods once his agreement and you can see the rest of the Templars smirking slyly, as if there would be any other answer.

Haytham looks amused and you think he is going to have a lot of fun at Charles’ expense.

'We could do this now...' Haytham purrs, running a palm over the shiny wooden table top, and Charles baulks at the prospect, he obviously didn't think things would be happening so fast. 'Or perhaps you would like time and comfort later after our game?'

A night spent with Haytham and Lee...watching Charles be fucked by him. It almost made you wish the poker game ended early, but you all agree it will be done in private where you could take all the time you like.  


 

 

Bastards. They normally don't side with Charles but he seems determined to deny you, and the other Templars are following suit. You were suspicious of his whisper in the Grandmasters ear, and no doubt this is payback for teasing him earlier.

So far Haytham and Charles and Hickey have won rounds and their dares have been annoyingly conservative. You were expecting things to get hotter from here on in, and while your earlier fun with Lee took the edge of your growing frustration with a small self-induced orgasm, you were more than ready for something a little more. And any of them still had yet to touch you.

You fix them with a frustrated pout, which only results in low masculine laughter. You fear this will continue until you win a round and can ask them to do whatever you like. Just to add insult to injury they have all been asked to remove their shirts and you have a lovely view around the table of bare chests. But looking is not the same as touching.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat you try and focus on the game but your hand is rubbish and you inevitably loose…again.

Shay is leaning back in his seat watching the table with consideration, winning hand in front of him. The Grandmaster is smirking at him, and you fully expect the Irishman to come up with something mundane.

'On the one hand I could continue to tease you.' He says almost conversationally.

You try hard not to focus on the flex of his bicep as he takes a long slow drink from his tankard before sitting it back on the table. His hair has come loose from the small black thong he ties it back with, and a few wisps curl down across his forehead.

'On the other, I really want to bury my head between your legs and eat you like my last meal.'

Your breath involuntary hitches in surprise. Caught off guard, you hadn't quite been expecting _that_.

Shay's dark gaze sweeps over you as he pauses, as if considering his options. God, you really hope he is going for option two.

'Which would you like?'

Fuck, he really had to ask?!

'Second one.' You mutter breathily, almost unable to get the words out fast enough.

Shay chuckles lowly with that deep voice, tugging every muscle south of your belly button, 'I thought you would say that.'

He shuffles closer in his chair as the Grandmaster deals the next round.

'Shall I deal you in or will you be too distracted?' Haytham asks you with false innocence.

You nod, whimper almost escaping your lips as Shay's large, warm, palm slips up the inside of your thigh. He reaches the apex and his fingertips delicately brush the outer lips of your pussy, causing you to slide forwards in your chair, desperate for more of his touch.

Lips dance down the side of your neck as fingers continue to show a frustrating amount of restraint.

Shay’s breath is low in your ear as his lips trace the outer shell causing you to shiver. 'Open your legs.'

You comply, eagerly, parting your thighs in order for the Templar to slide his hand higher. Fingers inch between your folds and you grab the cards that had been dealt, barely glancing at them as Shay slides from his chair to the floor beside you.

'Legs wider.' He orders.

The skirt of Charles’ dress is already pushed up your body as much as possible, exposing you to the room as you part your legs even further.

'Hook your knees over the arms of the chair.'

Shay smirks at you and you meet his gaze with a blush, but do as asked.

Draping them over the arms of your chair, your legs are spread impossibly wide, leaving you fully exposed to the room. The cooler caresses your damp slit and you shiver as Shay leans forwards, blowing his warm breath across you.

His tongue trails teasingly around you in gently strokes, making sure that all your attention is focused on him kneeling between your parted legs. He never quite touches the spot you want him too, taking his damned sweet time kissing around you inner thighs, joint of your legs, outer lips…anywhere but your clit which is begging for attention.

You wiggle in the chair, hips rising to try and meet his tongue, not caring if you are panting and moaning for all the other Templars to hear.

Shay smirks, continuing his languid assault before, _finally_ , pressing deeper, tongue almost slipping inside of you.

Keening, you writhe on the chair, his mouth feels incredible but you need more.

You throw your cards that had been dealt onto the table, giving in to pleasure as you sink lower in the chair, eyes closed as Shay's tongue practically curls around your clit. You couldn’t care less about the winning hand right now as your now free fingers thread through the Templars jet-black hair.

The position is becoming almost uncomfortable, legs spread wide, and even the press of Shay's warm palms on your thighs is enough to distract you. You are teetering on the brink of orgasm, just being held back.

You groan as the pad of Shay’s tongue sweeps the little bundle of nerves and his low chuckle sends vibrations through his jaw that only add to your pleasure.

‘Ugh, please fuck me.’ You pant, needing just that little something extra to push you over the edge.

Shay chuckles again, curling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently until your back arches and hips are almost fully off of the chair. His eyes roll up your body to watch you with an amused grin across his face as you shake and quiver around him.

There is a soft press at your opening as Shay circles his finger, teasing you with the promise of penetration.

You wiggle your hips, trying to push those wandering digits inside of you.

He finally relents; sliding two large forefingers into your wet pussy with ease, and begins a slow stroking motion.

It’s more than enough to push you over the edge, and when you cum you almost slide right off the chair to end up in Shay's lap as your body convulses and muscle lock in bliss.

The Templar grins, pulling your spent body towards him on the floor and wrapping his arms around you. With a long lingering kiss, he feeds you your own taste, before depositing you back in your chair and getting smoothly to his feet.

Smirking at you as he sits, you are not fooled; Shay’s erection is evident, tenting the front of his trousers and pupils almost fully lost in blackness.

Your muscles have taken on a pleasurably tingly quality as you try and control your breathing, but are aware you are practically sitting in a little puddle of your own arousal.

Charles fixes you with a hot, penetrating gaze. As winner of that round while you were, ah, distracted, he gets next dare, and by the look on his face you have a feeling that you are the recipient.

‘Bend over the table.’ He purrs lowly, with a slight edge to his voice and you whimper at his command. What that voice and the prospect of his punishment can do to you is amazing.

‘Not quite yet.’ Haytham interrupts and Lee give the Grandmaster a dark look.

‘I believe the winning hand was mine.’ Charles states coolly and Haytham nods in agreement.

‘Well then, I’m going to fucker her over the table until she is screaming in orgasm again.’

You are totally ok with that and are tempted to tell Haytham to shut up so that you can have your way.

'I believe I shall head to bed, however'. The Grandmaster asserts, checking the time on an ornate wall clock. It is getting quite late but you have not even begun to have enough fun with Shay and Thomas or even William yet.

He glances at you just as you are about to put up protest at ending your fun early, and raises a challenging eyebrow. 'I also believe you and Charles were joining me.'

Lee blinks slowly, carefully watching the side of the Grandmasters face. Perhaps he had hoped the little arrangement was forgotten about, or wasn’t expecting the entertainment to be started quite so soon.

‘There is a room ready for you, Sir.’ Johnson offers Haytham. With an amused glance at Charles, he adds playfully, ‘I’m sure it will fully accommodate…three.’

Lee narrows his eyes, and you can see the Grandmaster hiding his smirk.

Bidding goodnight to the rest of the Templars, you head upstairs with Charles and Haytham in your wake, full of excited anticipation.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You might have talked Haytham and Charles into a little one on one with one another, but that doesn't mean to say you don't get to join in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for long update times and thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos. I haven't forgot about my favourite Templar boy band. Hopefully I can get more done while my motivation is high.

 

 

You practically bounce all the way upstairs in happy anticipation. You didn’t think it would have been quite so easy to talk the boys into a little one on one with each other, and idly wonder who else you might be able to convince. Not that being caught in the middle of some extremely attractive men isn’t fun; but why should they be the only ones having their voyeuristic fantasies met?

Poor Charles looks the most contrite you have ever seen him, perhaps he is having second thoughts? Feet almost dragging along the polished wooden floor, his pace is slow and even, and he has a slightly wide-eyed dazed look as the three of you head upstairs in search of Haytham’s bedroom.

A warm palm slips against the crook of your back and you shiver in pleasure as Haytham’s thumb glides lightly across the fabric of the dress in a lazy, stroking motion.

‘That is a lovely colour on you.’ He murmurs, fingers trailing delicately from the fabric to the bare skin of your arm. Just that simple, light, caress is enough to raise goosebumps across your skin.

Penetrating grey eyes follow the path of his fingertips across your upper arm and down your collar, stopping just short of the very expose mount of your breast. ‘If it were a little more modest, you could wear it out.’

‘I don’t think that was Charles intention.’ You quip, glancing back at the surprisingly more subdued Templar.

‘Yes, well...’ Haytham pinches a scrap of lace around the bust of the dress, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. His expression is almost…wistful.

‘Something wrong?’ You enquire at the Grandmasters soft, almost inaudible, sigh.

His gaze focuses back on your face as he drops the lace from his fingertips. ‘We should go out sometime. Somewhere that requires less…nakedness perhaps. Not that having you as a constant feature in my bedroom is not enjoyable, but it would be nice to think that is not all we keep in touch for.’

Well, well, he was full of surprises. You try and keep your tone light, not wanting to make too much of the Grandmasters sudden desire for relationship intimacy. ‘Like a…date?’

Haytham’s lip quirks in a shadow of his usually, infuriatingly sexy, smug smirk. ‘Would that be so terribly awful?’

Hell no. Not at all. It would be quite pleasant actually, but no need to act too desperate.

‘You just want to see me in a fancy frock, acting the posh git like you.’ You tease.

One elegant eyebrow cocks in mock reproach. ‘I am not posh.’

The elongated pronunciation of the vowels sort of ruined his protest, and the Grandmaster grimaces as if he has just heard his own accent and realised that he was, in fact, posh. You glance at a smirking Charles for confirmation.

‘You are.’ Lee snorts in agreement. ‘Sir.’ He adds quickly at Haytham's look of indignation.

‘Well, when we are out I will just have to prove that I have slightly _less_ noble qualities.’

There was nothing innocent about the mischievous smirk the Grandmaster was giving you and you are _very_ interested in what he had planned.

Leaning in towards you, voice low, Haytham’s lips _just_ brushing the outer lobe of your ear. ‘There are plenty of dark corners in theatres, I know from experience. I hope you plan on wearing all of your outfit’s sans-underwear from now on.’

Well that was an appealing thought. You hope that your nicely turned on, and over-active imagination, is not currently displaying all salacious thoughts across your face. Just imagine locked in a dark corner with Haytham, while people watch some play or opera, muffling your voices so that you can’t be heard, his large, calloused hands slipping under your dress, touching you intimately while his lips…ugh, you could really do with some alone time with nothing but those thoughts to get yourself off, but remember that you have the fun of the two Templars to watch first.

Licking your dry lips, you hope you managed to sound relatively flirty in response. ‘Take me somewhere nice, posh boy, and you might get to find out.’

Lee’s look of indignation his boss’ behalf is only met with a wry grin from Haytham, as he continues ushering the pair of you along the corridor.

 

 

 

As you slip into a large, ostentatiously decorated, room you wonder if; as Grandmaster, that Haytham is always afforded the best accommodation wherever he happens to be staying.

You suppose you will likely be sleeping here as you hadn’t quite got round to finding out which room in his home that William had placed you. In fairness you had been a little…distracted. The boys fault entirely.

Pausing, you glance from the bed to the soft, plump, chairs, wondering which would be the best vantage point. The boys would likely need the bed. A hazard, you have noticed, of having so many of them at your beck and call was finding space for everyone. Even the largest beds struggled to hold more than four people at any one time. You wonder if there is something bigger than king size? Orgy size maybe?

Charles seems to have gathered his courage on the trip upstairs and is now wearing his usual haughty, arrogant look, arms firmly crossed over his chest.

‘Something amusing?’ He enquires as you ponder the inadequacies of your current sleeping arrangements.

‘No.’ You smirk, not wanting to let him in on your little private joke.

The dark flash in Charles green eyes would have likely meant a little discipline from the domineering Templar regarding your insolence. But this isn’t about your submission to him. You get to see the tables turned on Mr Lee for tonight, and it happily means you are going to get away with sassing him a little more than usual.

Choosing to make yourself comfortable on the bed, you stretch out your legs and plump up a few pillows at your back so that you can rest against the headboard.

Lee stares at you casually lounging there with narrow eyes. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘Of course I am, Charles.’ You grin at him. ‘I’m about to watch two attractive men have sex. If you would like to bring me a drink and some snacks, I’m all set.’

You hear Haytham’s amused chuckle from somewhere in the dim room, but keep your eyes warily on Charles’ dark scowl. However his displeasure at being made fun of doesn’t stop the long, lingering, glance down your almost-bare legs. No doubt you look like quite an inviting sight sprawled out on the bed with barely any clothes on, but there's no way that you would look anything else thanks to the revealing dress.

While his attention was on you, Haytham approaches Charles, back straight and still imposing, even with half his clothing missing. The Grandmaster rarely is seen wandering about in just his shirtsleeves, but his posture isn’t betrayed by the relaxed clothing.

He is only inches from Charles, almost toe to toe, and so close you can see that the Grandmaster has a good few inches in height on his Templar.

Charles watches him carefully, warily. Leaning forwards slightly, preparing for the inevitable kiss that Haytham seems to be driving for.

There is a sudden low gasp from low in Lee’s throat as Haytham’s hand winds quickly around his back, twisting his arm upwards and forcing their bodies closer. Lips mere inches from the other man; you can see Charles take a deep breath, practically panting in wide-eyed anticipation.

'You obviously don't quite understand how this works, Charles.’ Haytham purrs lowly in that smooth, refined voice. ‘You will not get away with me what you did with her.'

Their lips crash together, and it’s bruising and rough and demanding.

Struggling in the Grandmasters tight embrace, Charles is left making small noises of pleasure low in his throat.

Licking your own dry lips, you squirm on the bed. You know first-hand what those kisses were like, how enticingly good, and you can practically _taste_ him. Perhaps just watching wasn’t going to be as fun as you first anticipated.

Eyes fluttering closed, the stiffness in Charles body melts away against the hard lines the Grandmasters, and when he pulls slowly away, Mr Lee’s eyes open sluggishly, licking his lips as if savouring the taste.

You always knew Charles had a thing for Haytham. He sneered and mocked the others, but jumped as eager as a puppy to obey the Grandmaster’s every command. It was respect bordering on obsession, and you think that he is probably relishing this attention from his boss, despite any earlier misgivings.

You observe their exchange eagerly. There is something about watching the act that gets you hot and bothered; two good looking men being intimate. But you try and keep quite on the bed so as to not disturb the intimate tension between them, instead becoming more and more aroused as Haytham continues fully exploring Lee's mouth until the other man is squirming, body involuntary and silently, begging for more.

With a firm grip on his arm, and the other tightly balled in Lee’s black hair, there is no room for movement, and if you were Charles, you certainly wouldn’t want to. He looks to be in no desire to pull away, his free hand hovering just above Haytham’s biceps, as if unsure whether he is supposed to touch or not. He finally grips the white shirtsleeve tight, balling the fabric between his fingers as the Grandmaster makes a deep sweep of this inside of his mouth with his tongue.

When Haytham eventually pulls away with a self-satisfied smile, and creates a few inches space between their bodies, the other Templar’s cheeks are flushed red, green eyes dazed and unfocused.

Charles licks his lips, swallowing hard, when Haytham starts unbuttoning that startling red waistcoat. In turn, the Grandmaster gives Charles an appraising glance up and down and even you can see the heat in it from across the room.

'Take everything off.' His tone is a demand, and Charles jumps to agree.

Turning towards the bed to remove his shirt, Lee catches your eye. 'Enjoying yourself?' He jokes.

You nod happily as his shirt is loosened enough to flash pale chest, covered in a thick pelt of dark black hair.

The first button pops at the waistband of his breeches as Charles pulls out his shirt tails and the fabric sages, threating to slide down lean hips. Eyes locked on yours, you get your own private little strip show as he, very slowly and deliberately, peels the shirt off to allow the garment to slip from his shoulders to the floor.

You saw the Grandmaster approach from your vantage point on the bed, and just manage to contain your smirk, but Charles was too busy trying to tease you, and suddenly his eyes are wide and startled when Haytham wraps a pale, muscled arm, around his stomach, pulling their bodies together until Charles back is flush against his chest.

Trailing kisses down the side of his neck, Haytham’s large palm hand scoots confidently over the Templars stomach, and down to tease the waist band of his breeches.

You almost let out a small, longing groan as the Grandmasters fingertips disappear under the fabric, unsure whether you want those fingers on you, or want to be the one exploring a strangely passive Charles.

'Not fast enough, Mr Lee.' Haytham purrs darkly in his Templar’s ear.

He only receives a soft whimper in response. A panting Charles, grinding back against, what you are assuming, is a totally naked Haytham.

Arm still locked around the other man’s waist, you can see Haytham dig his hips slightly into Charles backside, tightening his grip.

Charles eyes slip closed, fluttering in pleasure as Haytham continues hotly assaulting his neck and shoulders with lips and teeth. The small, eager, pleasure filled noises in response are very much like your own when the Grandmaster does that to you.

Haytham’s hand slips even lower, further down into Lee’s loosened breeches, and by Charles strangled gasp of pleasure, or shock possibly, you are pretty sure that he had just grabbed his cock. His hand moves, clearly stroking the other man’s erection through his clothing, and you are all but straining on the bed to get a better look.

Lying eager in your position, you get to watch Charles moan and pant, and come apart under Haytham’s expert touch. He is so submissive, it's like he is a different man.

Pleasantly defined muscles tighten in the Haytham’s arm, still securely wrapped around Charles stomach, practically holding him up as his knees threaten to give out.

Charles arm flails out widely, reaching desperately behind him to pull the Grandmaster closer. Swallowing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly in short panting breaths, Mr Lee’s head falls to the side to allow Haytham better access to his neck as fingers tangle in the slightly greying ponytail.

The Grandmaster pulls away with a delicate bite to the taut throat under his lips, leaving Charles groaning lowly in disappointment, his eyes opening at the loss of contact but remain unfocused and hazy.

Kneeling, Haytham quickly removes the other man’s shoes and slides down Lee’s loosened breeches, while he was distracted, leaving the usually arrogant Templar fully naked before he could even protest.

You lick your lips, feeling yourself becoming wetter at just the sight of the two handsome men totally nude and fully aroused before you. Squeezing your thighs together, what the hell, you might as well have some fun. Your own fingers slip under the skirt of your dress, trailing the inside of your thighs briefly teasing, before pushing eagerly through the already sopping folds of your pussy in search of your clit.

A pair of grey eyes catches your movements and watch with interest for a few moments.

‘None of that just yet.’ Haytham threatens, as he scrutinises you pleasuring yourself.

He roughly pushes Charles towards the bed until the Templar is lying on his back almost beside you. Remaining standing, the Grandmasters eyes sparkle in mischief as he gazes down at the other man sprawled naked. Hand slipping around his own cock for a few teasing strokes, Haytham’s gaze wanders between the pair of you with a smirk. 'Now, what to do with you?'

Charles swallows hard and whimpers. You wouldn’t be feeling terribly brave with the imposing sight of the Grandmaster naked and stroking himself looking at you as if you were something to eat much either.

Easing down onto the bed, Haytham covers Charles body, kneeling over him to administer another scorching kiss, full of probing tongues and greedy groans.

'You are to do everything to her that I do to you, understand?' He states to a very aroused Mr Lee, whose eyes need a moment to focus, but eventually smirks lightly up at you lounging beside him.

'Yes sir.' Charles mumbles amusedly, stretching out on the bed into a comfier position and pulling himself closer towards your body.

'Take that ridiculous excuse for a dress off.' Haytham mutters playfully in your direction, as he begins kissing a meandering trail down the other Templars body.

You scramble to comply, happy at the turn of events because you could really use some attention right now, sod waiting you turn.

The dress barely hits the floor in a pool of blue silk, when Lee’s large, warm, hands are on your hips pulling you across to straddle his chest.

You end up kneeling on the bed over Charles, his head at just the right height for…you giggle as his moustache tickles your stomach, kisses across it and heading ever lower. His breath is scorching against your already wet sex, hands curling around your thighs to position you in just the right place.

Charles suddenly moans deeply, eyes closing tight with a lurching shudder raking his body. You glance over your shoulder to see Haytham kneeling between the man's legs, mouth stretched across his cock.

You might just cum right now, you think, without ever being touched, watching the Grandmasters wet lips slide up and down Charles hard length.

Lee bucks and moans on top of the bed, breath tickling along your desperately sensitive skin, fingers digging almost-painfully into your thighs as he fights his reaction to the mouth currently pushing towards orgasm.

You enjoy a few moments of watching Haytham work, lavishing attention on Lee’s cock with his mouth, tongue trailing up and down the length in a hypnotically rhythmic fashion. He was a man who had clearly done that before.

There is the slightest, pleasantly needy, whimper from low in Charles throat every time that the other Templar sweeps the sensitive head with the tip of his tongue. His cock is already _leaking_ , and you are suddenly desperate for just a taste, to have your lips join Haytham’s and to have Charles little moans of pleasure just for you.

Haytham rolls his eyes upwards to find you watching animatedly, and he suddenly pulls away from his task, smirking.

'Charles.' He remonstrates. 'You are ignoring our guest.'

Lee’s eyes snap open to focus on you above him.

You could almost feel sorry for him, if you didn’t remember that Charles likes doing this to other people. He looks almost pained as the Grandmaster caresses the tip of his tongue around the head of his cock in a slow, teasing, fashion, fingertips delicately tracing the shaft. You can see Charles manhood practically _strain_ in eagerness.

You take it back; you will be totally ok with watching this, for hours.

Spurred on by the Grandmasters encouragement, Charles sets about his appointed task, dipping his tongue between your legs and lapping gently.

When he groans loudly against your flesh, the sound reverberating through your stimulated, swollen clit, you can guess that Haytham has obviously slipped him back into his mouth.

Fingers massage your thighs as you buck and writhe on top of the Templar, pushed to brink of orgasm thanks to his talented mouth. Charles flicks across your clit, massaging firmly with the wide flat pad of his tongue and it’s all you can do to keep your quivering muscles under control so as to not collapse on top of him.

Lee’s rhythm falters, dark green eyes flickering down from where he had been watching your body writhe above him, to the Grandmaster between his legs.

'I have other plans so I won't finish you here.' Haytham murmurs silkily from somewhere behind you. 'But finish her, Charles, and we will move on.'

You feel the bed move as Haytham extracts himself, and the other Templar’s fingers dig firmly into your hips as his mouth resumes its task of inching you closer to orgasm.

He works quickly, greedily, nuzzling your folds and sucking on your peaking bud at every opportunity. It’s not long before you end up shuddering above Charles, his tongue roughly scrapping over your sensitive nub until you can't stand it any longer and the tightly coiled pressure low in your stomach explodes with a long drawn out moan from between your lips.

Barely aware of your surroundings, you manage to roll shakily off of Mr Lee to lie flat on the bed, basking in the happy afterglow of your own orgasm.

Propping yourself up on elbows, Charles has done the same and you both get a good view of Haytham standing at the edge of the bed, still hard and eager, leisurely stroking his own cock and smearing a clear, shining oil onto his skin until it glistens wetly.

'Hands and knees if you will.’ The Grandmaster orders, casually. ‘Both of you.'

You wonder what to expect next, since you are obviously being included in their game.

'Remember Charles,’ Haytham warns, ‘what I’m doing to you gets reciprocated.'

Charles lets out a small groan of frustration at that prospect, and pulls you closer for a deep, intense kiss as you try and get to your knees to do as the Grandmaster commanded.

As you struggle to get your tingling-post orgasm legs to work and turn to kneel on the bed, you glance over your shoulder to catch sight of Haytham smearing the same clear, shining, oil onto his fingers from a decorative glass bottle.

Charles hisses lowly from behind you when you turn away and you have a good idea of where Haytham had just slid those fingers.

Charles’ breath tickles across the back of your neck as he covers your body with his larger one, the coarse hairs across his chest and stomach ticking along your back and backside. He is already panting heavily, gasping, and wiggling against you as he receives pleasure from the other man’s touch.

'Charles.' Haytham warns, and you soon feel fingers brush your clit. Obviously Mr Lee was supposed to reciprocate _everything_ that Haytham was doing.

You groan a little in discomfort, clit already sensitive from his mouth early, and push your hips back against the Templar for something else. He takes the hint and calloused fingers slip a little lower, easing into your eager pussy without resistance. Sliding one finger into you as far as his knuckles will allow, Charles curls the impossibly long digit to rub along the sensitive front wall of your vagina.

Your own low moans of pleasure soon meet Lee’s, when he adds a second finger, and you inch backwards greedily against his hand, thrusting your hips, indicating that you want more.

Charles obliges, and you soon feel the smooth head of his cock press against your opening where his fingers had been eagerly exploring. The Templar pauses only briefly, savouring a moment of anticipation before sliding forwards in one smooth thrust until he is sheath inside of you.

Your shoulders and spine are showered with warm, sensuous kisses as Charles sets slow, shallow, thrusts. The bristles of his moustaches prick your skin causing you to write against him.

Rolling your hips, your actions are met with a deep, rumbling groan. However Charles now feels heavier behind you than he should, and he is panting too hard considering the minimal time you have been joined.

You glance over your shoulder to see Haytham kneeling behind his Templar, hands wrapped around the other man’s hips and thrusting steadily.

Charles whimpers lowly, needily, and you shiver at the sound, he’s already _so_ close. The amount of sensation he must be experiencing from being caught in the middle of you and the Grandmaster must be incredible.

You remember how completely overwhelming it was being stuck between two of the Templars before; pleasure so intense that it borders on painful.

'Charles.' Haytham’s voice is a low sinister warning. 'I don't believe that is _quite_ what I’m doing to you, is it?'

Lee's replying voice is barely audible, he groans against your shoulder, teeth scratching your skin delicately. His skin is impossibly warm and clammy against yours, and when you crane your neck behind you to gain a kiss; his eyes are fully dilated and small beads of sweat gather at his hairline.

You let out a small gasp in surprise when an oil slicked finger caresses the tight hole at your backside. So the Grandmaster was expecting Lee to do _exactly_ what he was doing…

He takes his time preparing you, slipping one lubricated finger and massaging gently, before adding another, stretching you and scissoring his fingers slowly. All the while you feel the steady thudding impact of Haytham into the man, pushing his straining cock deeper into your body and jarring his fingers in your arse.

You moan in frustration and disappointment as Charles thick, hard, cock slips from between your legs, but by the time he presses it against your backside; you are moaning and begging for him.

Charles shudders against you, and after a particularly forceful thrust by Haytham, he loses his balance, body tight against the back of yours, forcing your face down into the soft bedding.

Haytham thrusts harder, pushing the other man firmly against you, and you are not sure whose gratifying moan was loudest.

Swearing vehemently under his breath, Charles lips seeking out your neck to caress every inch of bare skin he can reach.

You groan as his hips buck against yours, but Mr Lee hasn’t managed to penetrate you, too busy being toyed by the Grandmaster. Bracing his hands against the bed to prevent crushing you, you can hear the strain in Charles voice as Haytham seeks his pleasure from him, hips thudding against his backside harshly.

The steady slap of skin against skin and deep masculine groaning is all the noise that fills the room.

Slipping a hand down the front of your body, you tease your clit and try to help along to orgasm since both Templars seem occupied. Bucking your hips, you try to angle just right, so that Charles can slide himself inside of you again, but he is still having trouble controlling his body.

Charles sounds far too busy trying not to cum too soon to worry about anything else. You can feel tremble in his body, his low moaning seems erratic and desperate.

Haytham’s voice is low and dangerous, you can just make out his profile and you crane your neck over your shoulder against Charles assaulting mouth. The Grandmaster’s lips wander down the side of the other man’s neck, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear. 'You don't cum until she does you hear me?'

Charles let's out a small, intelligible groan.

'I'm warning you, Charles.' Haytham goads mockingly, echoing Mr Lee’s own techniques of torture. 'Learn a little self-control.'

You briefly wonder how Haytham would fair in this situation. Maybe that would be some fun for another time? Would he allow himself to be the one expected to submit?

Large, warm palm caress across your hips, up your waist, eventually cupping your breasts. Charles teases the heavier flesh in his palms, rough fingers sharpening your nipples into peaks.

You are so close; you can feel the tight pull of impending orgasm between your legs as your fingers dance across your nub and you up the pace on your body, pressing more firmly with the tips of your fingers, muffling your cries of pleasure into the bedspread.

 

Charles loses control first, you feel his body tremble, pressed tight against the back of yours, and the hot spurt of warm cum against the bare skin of your backside. He hadn’t been able to hold out against the Grandmasters assault, and hadn’t even managed to slip his cock back into your body in time.

'How disappointing.' Haytham drawls sarcastically, and the other Templar let's out a deep, shuddering, breath against your ear.

Mr Lee was finished and was panting heavily, but it didn't matter. His hands were still on your skin, caressing, holding you. The weight of his body pinning you, the distant press of Haytham against the other Templar’s back, the low growl from his throat, and the sounds of their bodies joining was enough to leave twitching in orgasm.

With an amused sigh, the Grandmaster pulls away from Charles limp body, who let out a soft moan in turn. His weight is finally dragged off of you, and you just manage to roll over and curl up, satisfied and lazy, on the bed.

Lee still seems a little dazed, cheeks pink, cock soft, and body sweating from exertion when Haytham gives him a harsh, bruising kiss, biting his bottom lip until he cried out.

Nipping along his chest with his mouth, Haytham watches, as the usually haughty and reserved Charles writhes and moans under his touch.

As the Grandmaster pulls away from him, Charles seems to have trouble moving his arms and legs. He shakily tries to crawl up the bed to cuddle closer to you and it takes a little tugging by both you and Haytham to get his body into a better position.

Charles looks astounded by how much he enjoyed that, lips pink and swollen, pupils wide, hair a mess; he looks thoroughly fucked and happily exhausted, in comparison with Haytham who still looks almost pristine.

 

 

Charles had promptly curled up around you and went to sleep at a remarkably fast pace, exhausted from the amount of pleasure he received.

You knew exactly what that felt like recently.

Haytham stretches out his long frame on the bed beside you, looking effortlessly relaxed and at ease, despite being completely naked. He chuckles softly at your position. 'Would you like me to move him?'

You glance down at Charles dark head, currently using your tummy as a pillow, little puffs of breath tickling your skin as he exhaled deep, rhythmic, breaths. Most of his body is tangled around your legs and you are unable to move. Obviously the exertion and added stimulation had been too much for him.

You run your fingers through messy hair, brushing stray wisps back from his temple. 'No it's ok. Leave him sleeping, I'm reasonably comfortable.'

The Grandmaster scoots as close as possible without jostling the snoozing Charles. His eyes flutter closed as he gets comfortable beside you, and you get to drink your fill of him naked and relaxed. One arm resting under his head, the other is strewn across his stomach, you almost giggle at his position, if it were Thomas or maybe Shay, then you would say that he is posing for effect and to attempt to entice you. Its then you happen to notice his bare chest.

'Haytham?'

'Hmmm?'

'Did you shave?'

His eyes open startled and glances guiltily over at you.

Freeing your hand from the tangle of Charles’s hair, you run it across the Grandmasters defined pectoral muscles.

'I’m pretty sure the last time we had sex that you had chest hair.' Your gaze is automatically drawn between his legs, and as you glance downwards, you have no idea how you missed the fact his manhood was completely bare now too.

'You also had pubic hair.' You add, trying, and probably failing, not to sound amused.

Haytham closes his eyes again but the tension in his body is still there. There’s something he’s hiding. 'I, um, felt like a change.'

You don’t buy that for a minute, he sounds far too hesitant. 'Haytham, why do I get the feeling you are not being entirely truthful?'

'I am.' He protests smoothly, still trying to act relaxed, but he is not meeting your gaze.

You can tell that's not all. Sighing deeply, you turn more towards Charles, leaving a larger space between you and the Grandmaster than necessary, just so that he is fully aware you are giving him the cold shoulder.  The silence stretches uncomfortably, and no doubt he knows that you are unhappy, his gaze never faltering from the side of your face as you deliberately keep your own averted.

Haytham strokes his hand across your upper arm, but you ignore his caress.

'Please, I'm not lying to you.' He tries, inching closer to you on the bed.

'I shouldn't be surprised; it comes so easily out your mouths to everyone else. Why should I be special?'

'Don't say that.' He pleads, softly.

Silence stretches for a few heartbeats more and the Grandmaster sighs wearily in defeat. 'Shay is a lot... _younger_ than me. As is Thomas, Charles, most of the current Templars. ' 

He stopped talking, as if that provided an adequate explanation. When you raise your eyebrow and continue just looking at him, there is another deep, exasperated, sigh.

'I'm going grey.' He admits with a little bitterness.

Biting your lip, you think that laughing at him is not the best way to go at the moment, but you can't help a little dig. You wouldn't have expected a man so self-assured like Haytham to worry about his appearance. 

'Ah, so it's male vanity.'

He huffs in annoyance, narrowing his eyes and giving you an unimpressed look. 'No.'

'Sure you’re not feeling your age, Grandmaster?' You tease.

His jaw tenses and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes at you, but his voice seems so…hesitant, not his usual confident, high class drawl, and you begin to be a little worried. 'Your attention is spread among us, and I’m…getting older- they're...'

Does he think you would prefer one of the others over him if you could see evidence of his age? Oh the poor man.

‘So you shaved off your hair because you were self-conscious that I wouldn’t want you if you were grey?'

Haytham remains silent.

'I hate to tell you, sweetie, but what about the hair on your head? If you shave off that, then I think that will be far more off putting than anything I might find lower down.'

He is still awfully quiet and there's a distinct blush across his cheeks now as he animatedly avoids your gaze. 'Well, there’s apparently something to...change colour. I was going to attempt...'

You actually can't help the small laugh escaping your throat and regret it with the slightly hurt look on his face.

'Oh, Haytham!' You edge closer, as much as possible with Charles still using you as his personal teddy bear. 

Curling a lock of his hair around your fingertips, you murmur, ‘I like you the way you are.'

The Grandmaster glances sideways at you, probably thinking you are teasing him again.

'You look fine, it's very distinguished. '

Rolling his eyes with a gentle huff, he mutters, 'distinguished is what you call men too old to be handsome to save their feelings.'

'Don't be silly.' You sooth, kissing his cheek. 'You are very handsome.'

He doesn't look convinced. 'The rest of them wouldn't get called _distinguished_.'

'Please Haytham, no dying your hair. Or shaving for that matter, unless it’s the hair on your face.’

The Grandmaster frowns. ‘You like Bill’s beard.’

‘Yes, on Bill. It suits him. I personally don’t think a full beard would suit you, but it’s your choice if you want to grow one. Grey or not, I will still love you.’

'But you wouldn't prefer me-'

'No.' You interrupt, hoping to convince him.

'Very well.' Haytham mutters finally with a small quirk of those very kissable lips, and you really hope that will be the end of it but you may need to sooth some fragile male egos over the next while, perhaps paying special attention to a certain Grandmaster.

Running your fingers across his chest, they glide over smooth muscles. 'Though the feeling is quite...interesting. I didn’t get much of a chance with your attention focused on Charles.'

Haytham smirks at your exploration as you hand slides across his stomach to the base of his, now bare, cock. The lack of hair actually made him seem bigger, which was quite impressive already. You entertain yourself with the smooth feeling between his legs.

Haytham chuckles as you run a forefinger across the smooth skin. 'Another factor of age I’m afraid, I am in no condition to entertain again so quickly.'

You smirk at him, licking your lips 'I'll wait.'

 

 

 

 

 

Your contented post-coital dozing is interrupted by Haytham carefully sliding off the bed.

'I'm going to get cleaned up before actually falling asleep.' He says, as he pulls on his shirt and heads towards a door that you are assuming is the bathroom.

Charles is still happily snoozing, practically on top of you, and you don't feel like moving much yet anyway.

'I'll just wait till the morning.' You mumble towards his retreating back.

Haytham disappears just after stoking the fire, leaving you with a sleeping Mr Lee. You shift gently, trying to move into a more comfortable position, and you feel the Templar’s arms tighten around you, rough stubbled cheek rubbing across the bare skin of your stomach. He sighs contentedly in his sleep so you resume stroking his hair as you go back to dozing.

 

 

 

Initially, you were unsure if the insistent fingers probing your thighs were figments of some very erotic dreams involving your current Templar boy toys, but your eyes are soon wide open as warm, dexterous fingers curl around your inner thigh and are very much real. The tickle of Charles moustache almost made you giggle as he presses open mouthed kisses across your stomach and hip.

You lie still for a time, ignoring his hinting, but thick fingers begin sliding ever higher towards the junction between your legs and your breathing becomes heavier in your excitement.

'I know you're awake.' He hums against your bare skin before licking a small, wet line across your public bone, causing all your inner muscles clench in eagerness.

Shifting under his weight, you tease, 'so are you apparently.'

Charles grabs your hips in large hands, positioning you squarely under him, mouth tantalisingly close to your sex.

'Where is the Grandmaster?' He mumbles between kisses, just out of reach of where you would really, really, like them to be.

'Having a bath, I think.'

Lee settles himself between your spread legs, a hungry gleam in his eye as he forces them wider to accommodate broad shoulders, leaving you fully exposed to him.

'Allow me to make up for finishing far too early before.'

'Really there's no-' any protest dies on your lips as the Templar’s warm, wet tongue makes a long slow swipe from your opening to your clit. You wriggle against him, enjoying the sensation as he does it again.

Charles forces your legs up and wider, baring and exposing every inch of you to him while he tortures you with that wicked tongue. He moves agonisingly slowly, caressing the hood of your clit in soft teasing strokes, gently sucking at the folds of your pussy.

Running fingers through his thick hair, you encourage him, hips bucking to meet the movements of his mouth. Small, excited noise escape your throat before you can even think of containing them and you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood when you feel a probing tongue delve inside of you.

In what seems like only minutes, you are practically teetering on the edge of orgasm, but Mr Lee abandons what he is doing with a self-satisfied smirk at your groan of disappointment and crawls up your body, tongue dipping in to your mouth to feed you your own taste. There was the insufferable dominating Charles you knew; obviously his time with Haytham had taught him no lesson.

The velvety soft skin of the Templar’s cock presses firmly against your stomach, just as his weight presses you deeper into the mattress.

Your inner muscles flutter in anticipation of welcoming him as he inches down to position better between your legs, lips seeking out your neck and collar. Writhing under him, you moan as Charles explores your body, poised to slip his hard cock into you just the way he wants to.

You can’t have that, not when you enjoyed watching him so uncharacteristically ruffled under the Grandmaster.

Placing knees either side of his hips; you push hard upwards and roll over, until Charles is firmly under you and your backside rests against his thighs.

Lying back on the bed, gazing up at you straddling him with a questioning cocked eyebrow, Charles bucks upwards, nearly knocking you off balance.

'I have no taste for women on top.' He teases, smirking at you, but his fingers still grip your hips tightly and you can feel the tension in his body that he will try and reverse your positions again.

'Tough.' You mutter as you lean forwards to kiss him, palms firmly on broad shoulders to help pin him to the bed.

 

 

'You should rethink, Charles. There's a lot to be said for the female superior position.'  A smooth voice drawls from behind you.

You nearly squeak in shock at the sudden re-appearance of the Grandmaster, a towel around his waist and hair dark from being wet.

Haytham strolls over to the bed, and you feel him crawl up behind you, bare chest cool and slightly damp as he pressed against your back.

'Couldn't find a bigger towel, eh?' You tease, eyeing the vast split in the stupidly small one that he wrapped around his waist. You are treated to an arrogant smirk from the Grandmaster, cool grey eyes sparkling with mischief. The towel is soft and fluffy against your skin as he presses closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to draw you against his body.

'As I was saying.' He practically purrs in your ear as he begins kissing a gentle line across your shoulder. 'This position has its advantages.'

Fingers skim along your stomach, brushing the curls between your legs lightly, before reaching down to the man under you and stroking his cock in long, confident, strokes.

Charles groans under you at the other man’s touch, hips bucking off the bed and fingers tightening against your hips.

Haytham guides the pair of you together, positioning Charles hard cock just so; and you sink onto the Templars lap with a low moan of pleasure.

'There's nothing _quite_ like the feel of that warm heat engulfing you when she eases downwards Charles.' Haytham purrs.

Lee grunts in response, and you can feel the other Templar grin satisfactorily against your skin.

Large hands encase your hips, pushing them so that they dance across the man under you. You don't exactly need help, but Haytham continues moving your hips in a rolling action while continuing to kiss along your neck and shoulders.

Shuddering in over stimulation, you still can’t quite believe that you have the fun of being in the position where there are two sets of enticing male hands on your body, holding you, guiding you, bringing you pleasure.

You feel slightly dizzy from the heat of their bodies, and the low, masculine growls of excitement are making every nerve ending tingle pleasantly. You feel the press of warm, velvety soft, erection against your backside and glance over your shoulder to find the Grandmaster has removed his towel and now completely naked.

Moving into position behind you, the head of Haytham’s cock brushes where you and Charles are joined, and he pushes forwards with his hips gently. The tip just begins stretching you, and you let out a soft whimper, leaning forwards to rest your head on Charles shoulder.

Haytham soothingly rubs your hips and inches forwards again, while Mr Lee distracts you with fervent kisses.

'You want me to stop?' The Grandmaster asks, as you let of a small hiss of discomfort.

'No.’ you insist. ‘It was amazing last time, just take it easy.'

It had been incredible last time, two of them filling you and wanted to try it again.

Haytham inches forwards slowly, you can hear the other Templar sigh, no doubt feeling it too. Could Charles feel the Grandmasters hard cock brush against him as he penetrated you? Did is feel as good for him as it felt for you?

'You're sure?'

A hand sneaks around your hip and begins thrumming your clit lightly. As if you would really think of saying no when he was doing that...

'Oh, _yes_.’ You hiss as the friction increases and you wiggle your hips relishing the movement of both of them filling your pussy. ‘You’re not exactly small men; it’s a lot to get used to.'

There’s a deep chuckle, and he does as instructed, working himself into you, inch by pleasurable inch.

Charles fingers are tight against your lips, leaving bruises, as he grits his teeth, hips stilling so as to not overwhelm you.

After a time, Haytham’s pace is still frustratingly glacial, slowly withdrawing until you are soon begging for it harder, faster, anything to try and end the pleasant torture.

'Still don't like women on top, Charles?' Haytham teases.

'It's growing on me.' He huffs, slipping calloused fingers between your bodies and gently massaging your clit in time with their thrusts.

Leaning forwards you capture Lee’s mouth with yours, his breath hot and heavy against you, tongue eagerly dancing with yours.

Another set of inquisitive hands wander across your back, offering a gentle squeeze of your backside that has you laughing. A wet finger presses against your backside, and your breath hitches.

'I'm curious. ' The Grandmaster purrs, as the pad of his thumb massages the tight puckered skin of your arse that Mr Lee had teased earlier. 'I find myself wondering what it would be like with more than two.'

You can barely form a coherent thought with the pair of them bucking against you, brain pleasurably fuzzy and a small trickle of sweat trailing down your back. How the hell would you manage more than two of them without passing out?

'There's only so much space on a bed for extra bodies, and inside of me for that matter.' You whine, as Haytham’s index finger dances across the sensitive skin, threating to slip inside of you. You feel yourself clenching around the pair of Templars deep inside your pussy in anticipation.

'Too many legs and bodies to fit a tight space.'

'True.' Haytham says, in an ever so slightly disappointed tone. 

'It doesn't necessarily need to be a person.’ Charles smirks from under you, somewhat less menacing that usual thanks to pink-exerted cheeks and his hair is disarray on the pillow.

'What do you mean?' Oh, now you were very curious.

'I may have purchased a few other items along with your dress.’ Charles licks his lips, mischievous gaze on you.

You can’t help but grin. 'Oh, that sounds wicked.'

The Grandmaster concurs with an amused chuckle. 'I find myself intrigued.'

‘Perhaps an experiment for another time?’ Lee huffs, and you agree.

The pair of them have worked over you enough for tonight, and your exhausted body is inching towards another orgasm that you are not sure you can take. Every muscle is tightly coiled, bordering on painful, and your head is clouding with nothing but the buzzing sensation of their bodied thudding against yours, the slap of skin against skin and low, excited, groaning.

Every thrust forces harsher gasps from low in your throat, urging them on. Charles fingers scrape against your clit, coxing you towards release on but he is the one to stop thrusting first, a deep growl issuing from gritted teeth as his body shudders.

Just the thought of him cumming inside of you, fingers still pressed hard against your swollen nub has a blinding white haze fill your vision, sharp spasms of muscles deep inside of you rippling all the way to your clit.

Leaning forwards, your lips connect sloppily with Charles, his tongue slipping between your teeth to massage your own. As his softening cock slips from under you, you feel the slight trickle of cum against your thighs.

Haytham places a hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you firmly in place across Mr Lee’s chest while his hips continue in a harsher, lest restrained rhythm. He is soon panting just as hard as you and Charles, body trembling against yours, and usually refined voice low and harsh.

Kissing along your tickling neck, Haytham wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you along with him from on top of the other Templar, to spoon on the side of the bed.

You end up panting hard, trying to regain your breath, sandwiched between two impossibly-warm and muscled male bodies, sweat cooling across your skin.

As you shift against them into a comfier position and your muscles groan in protest.

‘We need to stop doing this or I won’t be able to walk.’ You mumble sleepily.

‘We’ll have you carried.’ The Grandmaster jokes.

Wrapping an arm around Charles waist, and wriggling your back against Haytham, you are just contemplating sleep when Charles moves suddenly, rolling off of the bed and begins gathering his clothes.

‘Charles?’ You question, just managing to prop yourself up on one elbow as you watch him with a small frown. ‘Where are you going?’

He glances at you and Haytham snuggling on the bed, eyes cool and unreadable. ‘My room.’ He states matter-of-factly.

You pout unhappily at him. ‘You’re not staying here?’

He says nothing as he pulls on his breeches and shirt. You give Haytham a look and he raises his eyebrows, shaking his head and shrugging.

Prodding the Grandmaster, you want him to talk to his Templar. Haytham rolls his eyes but caves under your insistence. It would be nice to curl up in bed and spend the night with both of them.

‘You should stay, Charles.’ The Grandmaster encourages.

The other Templars glances at the pair of you, as if considering it, but continues dressing. ‘Thank you, but no.’

You try and not feel a little hurt. Charles wasn’t the most tactile of men, during sex he was, very much so. But other small intimacies he shied away from and you thought he might have come around a little more by now.

Haytham loved cuddling up in bed, and there was nothing that William enjoyed better either. Thomas, like Mr Lee, was also more interested in the physical, sexual side, but he wasn’t above a short respite of kissing and relaxed petting when the mood took him.

Charles bid the pair of you good night and disappeared to his own room while you snuggled contentedly under the covers with the Grandmaster.

Haytham he moulded himself against the back of your body, arm a warm, comforting weight around your waist.

‘What was all that about?’ You ask him, as the door closed softly behind Lee.

Haytham sighs softly. ‘Charles is… _Charles_.’ He offers in way of an explanation. ‘He hasn’t lightened up in all the years that I have known him.’

‘There is a plus side though.’ His tone is much lighter.

‘Hmmm?’

‘The bath is big enough for two in the morning.’ He teases as lips caress the back of your neck, arms pulling you tightly against him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quicky with Shay, because the sexy Irishman hasn't had enough love so far.

 

There's a significantly darker head resting on the adjacent pillow than the one that you had fallen asleep beside. For a brief moment, your sleep-fogged brain feared that Haytham had done something silly; such as dye his hair like he threatened, but as you rolled over in the dim morning light looking to snuggle closer to the Grandmaster, you are met with Shay Cormac fast asleep instead. 

The scar across the Irishman’s eye is well hidden by the pillow as he curls up on one side facing you, and his jaw is nearly as dark as his head; with a days’ worth of stubble decorating that chiselled jawline.

You take a moment just to lie and watch him sleeping peacefully, gently brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes that had wriggled loose as he tossed in his sleep. His face is uncharacteristically soft, relaxed and unguarded, unpleasant dreams clearly not plaguing him on this night. 

As if the Templar senses someone watching, dark brown, almost black, eyes flutter drowsily to meet yours. He blinks the morning haze away and gives you a warm, devastatingly melting, smile.

'Good morning.' He purrs, voice low and rough, thick with sleep.

'Morning.' You reply in a whisper, as if the early hour would be disturbed by your conversation. 

Lips, slightly chapped from weeks in harsh seas and biting weather, quirk playfully. 'Did I wake you?'

Truthfully, you hadn’t even heard him arrive. 'No. I didn't even hear you come in.' You admit.

It was a happy surprise to wake up to the Irishman, looking distinctly edible and like a tempting sin next to you, but you do wonder what happened to Haytham.

Reading your thoughts, Shay murmurs, 'the Grandmaster had work to do and decided to leave you sleeping.' 

Oh. Well they do come and go as they please, but it would be nice to receive a simple farewell. You’ll have to have a word with the boys about abandoning you in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye kiss, before it becomes a bad habit.

Rolling onto his back, Shay stretches languidly, back arching, arms extended above his head and toes pointing. A few muffled cracks of his joins echo in the room and a high-pitched, satisfied-almost pain- noise, escapes from his throat. He looks as if he really enjoyed that.

The Templar lets out a small yawn as he finished his, much needed looking, stretch, stubble jaw wide as the defined sinewy muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with his movements. The whole mattress moves with his weight and you are dipped, ever so slightly, closer.

'I thought I'd keep you company.’ He smirks roguishly, with a mischievous flash in those dark eyes, knowing full well that you were enjoying the showcasing of his body and unlikely to turn him down, or turf him out of bed for that matter.

‘You-you don't mind?' He adds a little more hesitantly as he rolls back to face you, sheets curling around his body and tugging you ever closer.

Silly man, who wouldn't want to wake up to his gorgeousness every morning?

'Of course not.' You enthuse, offering a small, affectionately embarrassed, smile at the casual intimacy, but pleased at his returning one.

Shay licks his lips slowly, eyes heavy with tiredness. It’s still early, sun barely drifting into the spacious room in William’s home. Daylight has likely only just arrived, so you could certainly afford to have a few more hours dozing, especially after the energetic events of last night.

Scooting closer to the Templar, Shay wraps a large, muscled arm around you, dragging you eagerly into his embrace and enveloping you in the cosy aura of his body. He’s so incredibly warm to the touch, skin meltingly-hot against yours, and your body is soon happily moulded firmly against his.

You soon realise that he is completely naked in bed as your breasts connect with the hard muscle of his chest. The coarse hairs across chest and stomach tickle your skin as you rub together in effort to gain a comfy position.

Tucking you against the front of his body, Shay rests his chin on top of your head, fingers lightly trailing delicate patters down your spine.

Shivering against him, despite the overwhelming heat, goosebumps tingle across your bare skin at his caress, enjoying the feel of large, male hands against your body and the promise of the pleasure they could provide, but he seems contented with some comforting non-sexual snuggling for the time being and a few more hours sleep.

It's snug and cosy wrapped his embrace. You could gladly stay here all day, content and happy. The undercurrent of spicy, musky, aftershave fills your nostrils as your mouth hovers only inches from his collar bone, puffs of your breath bouncing back against you off of his skin. Shay’s long legs intertwine with yours and, at the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the soft, smooth press of velvety skin of his softened cock against your stomach.

As the Templar settles off to sleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically against you, his body relaxes around you.

Your own breathing falls into line with his, entirely subconsciously, and you blissfully drift back off to a soothing sleep, wrapped in the warm safety of Shay’s arms.

 

 

 

You must have got a few more hours, as the now blindingly bright sunshine drifts through the gaps in the closed curtains and heats the air room.

Shay's breath is still deep and rhythmic in slumber as your eyes flutter open. Happily, another part of him seems to be fully awake, and his cock, that had been so soft against your skin, is now firm and hard and heavily pressing against your stomach.

You wriggle lightly in the Irishman’s arms hoping to gently awaken him, eager to take advantage of a perfectly natural, accidental, morning occurrence. 

He sleeps on. Unfazed.

Really. You felt an ex assassin and Templar should probably sleep a little more lightly, possibly with one eye open given the number of enemies he has likely made. Or at least take a _little_ notice of the naked body pressed against them, especially when that naked body is yours and it is demanding attention.

Pressing closer, so that the firm line of his erection moulds into your skin, you trail kisses across the Templar’s exposed collar, burying your nose in the warm, masculine smell of his neck. As your lips nip along his pale skin you feel the first stirring against you, arms tightening instinctively around your waist.

Shay’s body stiffens under your touch as he becomes fully awake, hands skimming across your thighs and hips in tentative exploration. A low, deep chuckle reverberating from above you raises your head in investigation from tucked under his stubbled chin, and you meet his gaze.

'Good morning, _again_.' He purrs roughly, dipping his head to kiss you, voice still thick with sleep and dark eyes unfocused.

You welcome his kisses with an eager sweep of your tongue against his lips, enjoying the Irishman’s low groan of approval.

With effortless ease you are manoeuvred onto your back, Shay’s larger body rolling naturally between your legs to settle his weight comfortably. His kiss deepens fervently, tongue deftly slipping between your parted lips to tangle with your own.

You dread to imagine what kind of state you are in, and should probably consider getting cleaned up after last night’s festivities with Charles and Haytham, but morning breath be damned; Shay doesn't seem to mind, too busy exploring every inch of you with impatient hands and lips.

The press of his erection, so promising, between your legs, has you moaning and arching upwards, eager for your bodies to be joined.

Shay's large insistent hands grip your waist, kneading your flesh and pulling you hard against him, as his own body bucks and writhes against your welcoming one.

A little bout of slow, sleepy, morning sex sounds wonderful, and your aching muscles stretch against him experimentally.

The tip of the Templar’s cock nudges forwards, rubbing your clit, seeking out the moist heat between your legs, causing low moaning from you and a deep growl from him. Shay does it again for effect, thrusting his hips millimetres so that the the soft head of his most intimate area rubs enticingly over the soft head of your most intimate area.

You wiggle your hips for a better position, trying to angle just _so_ , so that he will unexpectedly sink inside of you with the unconscious bucking of those powerful hips. But Shay is wise to your game, grinning against your kisses, shying away from giving you what you want to tease you some more with the promise of it.

A loud and sudden sharp bang draws a surprised gasp from your throat and a hiss from his.

The Templar’s entire body stiffens automatically above you, coiled like a cat waiting to strike and ready to act, as he glares towards the bedroom door and source of the noise.

Another series of heavy thumps rattles the wooden door in its frame.

'Shay, move yer arse, boy!' A brash, unmistakably mischievous, voice rings out.

A small laugh escapes your throat as you recognise Thomas Hickey’s dulcet cockney tones drifting through the closed bedroom door.

Giving the Irishman currently on top of you a sheepish grin, he groans in response, but it is only mockingly, returning your sly grin and burying his head in the crook of your neck to continue kissing.

As his lips caress the big pulse point in your throat, you can't help the low moan of pleasure from your lips; god knows what it sounded like to the men outside.

‘Cormac!’ Thomas persists with a knowingly smug tone, no doubt knowing _exactly_ what the pair of you were up to. ‘Old 'Afam wants you dressed and down in the study. Now!’

Shay ignores Hickey’s persuasion, his breath heavy in your ear as he traces the shell with his tongue, teeth delicately sinking into your lobe as his cock nudges your entrance.

Panting in need, you raise your hips, arching into him in encouragement, let Thomas wait…

‘Oi! No morning distractions. Ye can get yer dick wet another time!'

'Thomas!' A second, accusing voice chides from the other side of the door.

You snigger softly as you hear William Johnson’s disgusted reproach at his colleagues turn of phrase; you can even feel the crook of Shay’s smile against your throat as he hides his slight chuckle.

'Ten more minutes.' The Irishman mumbles quietly against your lips, certainly not enough for his colleagues to hear, as he continues to plunder your mouth with skill, body rubbing against yours.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you eagerly respond to his touch, fingers trailing the defined muscles of his shoulders and back, pulling him into position over you.

Maybe just a quickie before he had to go…

You just feel the silky head of his cock nudge your entrance, parting your folds and slipping into you just a fraction. You tense in eagerness, anticipating that wonderful first thrust as he embeds himself into your willingly inpatient body, when there is a distractingly softer knock at the door.

This time it is William’s voice protesting your early morning fun. 'I’m sorry, but Haytham did day now, Shay.' He says, more apologetically and politely than Thomas expressed himself.

'Fuck.' Shay sighs lightly, rolling off of you with a resigned air.

You groan in disappointment when he pulls away, the loss of the weight of his body a dissatisfying shock. It doesn’t stop a grin breaking across your face as you catch his eye, and Shay does the same, both finding fun in the ludicrous situation of being caught like two naughty adolescents stealing a quick moment together.

'Maybe later.' He declares hopefully while searching the floor for his clothing.

Hickey’s more forceful bang rattles the door again to torment you into action. My, they are very impatient this morning.

Slipping out of bed, you shimmy into a red silk robe that had been left for you, unsure which Templar offered it as a gift. The material was supple and luxurious, slithering against your bare skin like a glove to stop just above your knee. Tying the sash around your waist, you edge towards the bedroom door, planning on telling the two impatient Templars outside that Mr Cormac was just coming, before they knocked the bloody door down.

You don’t quite make it.

Just as your hand twists the doorknob; a warm weight forces it closed and you gasp at the sudden impact of Shay's hard body against yours, spinning you until your back collides with the bedroom door and it shuts firmly with a loud bang.

Rough, but warm hands slip under the silk, caressing your curves and pulling you impossibly close as his lips mash relentlessly against yours, sucking all the air from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Shay’s touch is fervent, insistent, barely able to drag his lips from yours to mutter, ‘the only thing I like better than you in _that_ , is you out of it.’

His voice is as dark as his gaze, both caressing you as thoroughly as his wandering hands.

How could you have forgotten that it was his gift?

The Templar tugs the tie brusquely from around your waist, slipping the opened silk garment vigorously from your shoulders so that it falls off and pools at your feet, leaving you naked and trapped between the cool wooden door and the impossible heat of his body. Pinning you, his lips trail up the taut column of your throat, across your cheek to capture and claim your mouth. As he pushed hard against you, your body collides more forcefully with the door, causing it to rattle on its hinges. 

You hear William’s concerned voice. 'Shay? What was that noise? Are the pair of you alright?'

You glance over your shoulder, as if you can see the two Templars through the bedroom door, but your gaze is quickly drawn back to the man in front of you when his hand slips between your legs.

A sharp moan of pleasure meets his exploring fingers, biting your lip doesn’t stop the low whimper of want and your legs tremble at his touch. You could have sworn you heard Thomas snort from the other side of the door as your lustful noises drift through.

Shay chuckles, pleased at your visceral reaction to him, dipping his head for another languid kiss. ‘They can wait.’ He whispers against your lips with a small, naughty, smirk, hands skimming downwards across your back, and lower.

Cupping two handfuls of your backside, the Templar squeezes tightly, pulling you firmer against him, almost dragging you up the hard planes of his body and thrusting forwards.

You connect violently with the door again and the wood _creaks_.

'Shay?!' William’s voice is almost panicked.

It's all you can do not to cry out when the Irishman tugs one of your legs upwards to wrap around his hip, your other leg barely tiptoeing on the floor, and slips his hard cock inside of you swiftly.

You nearly knock yourself unconscious as your head connects with the wood sharply in ecstatic surprise at the hasty, incredibly satisfying, deep entry.

'Ow.' You whine, but laugh, head fuzzy from pleasure and pain.

Shay grins fretfully, rubbing your scalp gently where you banged it and kissing your temple in soothing comfort.

He holds himself inside of you briefly, fingers gaining a better purchase on your backside to drag you against him. Hips buck forwards and upwards sharply, creating a much more excited noise from you as his pubic bone scrapes your clit and your backside connects hard with the door from the force of his thrust.

The round brass handle behind you turns, no doubt one of the Templars outside plans on investigating the strange noises.

'I wouldn't do that, Bill.' You hear Hickey’s amused warning from the other side.

'But-'

Thomas laughs playfully, and you can picture the mischievous twinkle in his eye without actually seeing him. ‘They’re fine, trust me.'

You are not sure if William believed him of not, because the laugh turns into a disbelieving sigh. 'Ye open that then yer gonna knock ‘em over.'

At the answering puzzled silence, you hear an exasperated chuckle.  'For fuck sake man, he's doing her against the door.'

The handle abruptly stops turning and, you hear a soft, embarrassed, ‘oh’ from William.

Shay shoves you more firmly against the wood, mouth assaulting the taught line of your throat as you arch in pleasure, arms warping around his neck looking for some sort of purchase to anchor you to this world.

'The boss'll be pissed.' Thomas warns, but the humour in his voice is still evident.

‘You are just jealous.’ You tease, voice breathy and hoarse from moaning.

There are a few responding chuckles from the other side of the door. ‘Damn right, love.’ Thomas quips.

Curling against the warm front of Shay, your hips move against his and there is another high excited moan from you which every single man within a hundred foot radius probably heard.

'Ten minutes.' Shay calls huskily through the doorway, tightening fingers around your thighs, and hips lurching upwards; driving his cock deeper inside of you and shaking the wood.

Footsteps echo on the floor heading away from the bedroom as the two Templars retreat, likely tattling on you to the Grandmaster, but you catch Thomas’ teasing parting retort, 'only ten minutes? Unlucky her.'

Shay smirks, but his face is eager, eyes dark and pupils dilated. He braces his feet more firmly against the floor, palms squeezing your backside.

Finally alone, his mouth is hot and desperate against yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. Hips pick up a steady rhythm, pounding into you with forcefully, but measured, movements.

Your arse bangs against the door with each of his thrusts, and all that fills the room is the shaking of the wood and your heavy breathing. A slight trickle of sweat rolls down your spine as your muscles quiver in effort to stay upright.

'Shay, bed.' You mutter between his intrusive kisses.

The Templar moves to distractingly caressing your jaw and neck with his lips. 'You uncomfortable?' He breathes against your skin.

‘A little.'

The pair of you _just_ manage to stumble to the bed, a tangle of legs and arms too keen on the touch of one another to let go and do this properly.

The Irishman drags you with him, broad body tumbling backwards, his back hitting the mattress and pulling you on top of him.

Your leg muscles thank you for not being overtly strained anymore, with his height; standing sex is not the most comfortable position. Straddling Shay’s hips, fingers already pulling you into position over him, you grind down eagerly on to the Templars lap, desperate to be joined with him again, your body craving the thick fullness of his wonderful cock inside of you.

Rising up slightly on your knees, palms splayed across his pectoral muscles, Shay helps position himself at your entrance and you sink onto him slowly with a low, greedy groan.

His eyes flutter, fingers digging into your hips tight until your backside is finally resting against his thighs and both your bodies are trembling in a mixture of overwhelming sensuality and exertion.

Bracing your palms across his broad chest, you begin moving your hips, slowly at first, relishing every small feeling as his cock caresses deeply inside of you. He feels wonderfully big from this angle and every minute roll of your hips seems to stimulate an entirely new area.

Shay's dark eyes watch you voraciously, hooded in lust and enjoying the view. With pale alabaster skin barely any darker than the sheets he is lying on, long raven hair fanned out around him, and kissable lips; wet and pink from your kisses, he looks like fallen angel, or an incubus come to tempt you. The Irishman grins devilishly up at you. 'You're beautiful, love.'

You scoff at him, disbelieving. He’s beautiful. Your hair is a mess, you are covered in sweat and cum, and could really use a bath after last night, but you lean forwards to kiss him anyway, tongue seeking his as your lips connect.

Your hips move harder, seeking your own pleasure against his body as you buck more forcefully on top of him. Shay’s own hips arch upwards in assistance, and one of his large, rough palms skims up your stomach, across your ribs to cup your breast, teasing and massaging the heavier flesh, thumb grazing back and forth across your nipple. His other hand dips lower, and you end up biting your lip to contain the squeals of delight as his calloused fingers begin massaging your swollen, sensitive clit.

'That's it, love.' He coaxes with than sinful accent as fingers press more firmly against your flesh. 'Let me see you cum.'

Unable to control your own muscles, you fall forwards, splayed across his chest, body still bucking on top of his hips, and one of his hands still trapped between your legs, fingers dancing over your clit. He has stopped moving, letting you do the work, moving on him as you will and taking what you need from his body, kissing your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach, muttering breath encouragement in your ear.

You kiss him, hard, tongue snaking into his mouth and he responds in kind.

Shay swallows your low moans of pleasure willingly as you cum, vision turning white as your body spasms and inner muscles convulse around him.

Panting, you slip your forehead into the crook of his neck, barely able to focus on anything but the unwinding coil of pleasure in your own body, out of breath and happily tired.

The Templar’s hips resume their insistent dive upwards to meet you, fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs and cock still buried deep, tantalisingly scraping along your inner walls. Small, low masculine groans of pleasure fill your ears as his body loses any sense of rhythm and all you can do is hold onto him, curling your body around his, moaning softly as he finishes.

With a deep grunt Shay body stills, chest rising and falling rapidly his lips nuzzle down your temple and cheek to capture your lips. His kisses are slow, languid, as if he has all the time in the world and wants nothing more than to be curled around you as you both come down from your orgasm-induced high. You can't quite work up the energy to roll off of him and Shay doesn't seem inclined to move you just.

 

 

 

The Irishman eventually rolls over and deposits you on your back, his mouth hesitating to part from yours as his tongue gives a final, fleeting, swipe against your own.

‘Should you not be getting ready?’ You remind him gently, and the Templar groans disappointingly, burying his head against your neck in refusal.

‘No.’ His huffy grumbles are muffled by your body.

‘Ten more minutes.’ He says with a grin against your shoulder, placing a few gentle kisses across your cooling, goosbumping, skin.

You laugh, giving him a gentle shove until he rolls off you. ‘You said that ten minutes ago. Go. Before Haytham comes looking for you.’

The bed shifts as Shay lazily rolls his weight off of it, grabbing up his discarded clothing from the floor. He glances at you, still curled up on the bed; a dark eyebrow raised is mirth.

‘And just what will _you_ be doing?’ He smirks at you as he struggles into his shirt.

‘Having ten more minutes in bed.’ You laugh playfully at him, squealing and trying to wriggle away when he jumps back on the bed half-dressed to wrestle a few more teasing kisses from you.

Once fairly neat and presentable, which takes a whole lot longer than normal, since the Templar is determined to kiss and tease you some more between layers of clothing, Shay is finally fully dressed.

‘Give the boys my love.’ You tease, as you get comfortable on the bed, contemplating snuggling down into the covers for a post-coital nap.

Shay narrows his eyes playfully at your mocking; he doesn’t _quite_ manage the same menacing air as Haytham or Charles. He picks up a Templar cross, a small badge, still discarded on the floor that hadn’t been refastened to his uniform just yet. With a flirtatious smirk he leans over the bed for a final tantalising kiss, and despite your teasing, your back arches, following his retreat in attempt to keep in contact with him as long as possible. He places the icon delicately between your legs with a naughty grin. ‘Leave that right there, I’m coming back to claim it shortly.’ The Irishman promises, voice low and intimate that sends a shiver through your naked body.

He chuckles, dashing for the doorway and deftly dodging the pillow thrown at him for his cheek.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fun with the Grandmaster. Oral sex at his desk, with the added thrill of possibly getting caught.

You felt very much like a naught school child called to the headmaster’s office to answer for your crimes as you stare at the closed door in front of you.

After Shay's hasty departure this morning, it was clear that the Templars had business, so you were left to your own devices to wander William's expansive home. You will admit that it had been fun noseying around the rooms, but were shocked at first at the invasiveness of the staff, who all but followed you into the bath to scrub your back and assist in dressing. On the other hand, whatever the discomforts and awkwardness of people waiting on you, you could quite get used to them bringing food and drink on demand.

You had spent the day perusing Mr Johnson's vast library, watching a number of Templars come and go in an excited frenzy. There was an unusual buzz around the estate, and it was _much_ later in the afternoon before you bumped into a slightly harassed Hickey. The usually playful Templar had no time for distractions as he informed you that Haytham had been looking for you.

Smoothing imaginary wrinkles from your clothing and fixing your hair, you find yourself hovering by the study door for a few moments before knocking softly and entering.

Inside the room is dull, several lamps and a vast crackling fire not quite enough to fully illuminate the huge office. It's William's office naturally, but seems to have been commandeered by the Grandmaster while he's staying here. The space is large and very masculine, all dark colours and woods, with leather fabrics and a number of hunting trophies littering the walls.

Haytham's grey-blue eyes shine bright across the room as you enter, surveying you with that cool penetrating look from behind the desk. His habitual hat is uncharacteristically discarded across the table top, which is littered with various papers and books. The slightly harried look across his features melts as he observes who has entered his solitude and his lip quirks in that infuriatingly smug, but sexy, way that he manages as he beckons you closer.

Edging across the room towards the desk, and the imposing figure of the Grandmaster at work, you are acutely aware of your own excited pulse hammering in your ear and the intense, intimate, scrutiny of his gaze. They always manage to illicit the most lustful thoughts in you, even when not appearing to be inciting them purposely. 

Haytham shuffles a few papers in front of him, stacking them neatly in a pile and sitting down his quill, amusingly precisely and orderly, on top. You make a mental note to move it slightly to see what he would do. Tormenting the man seems very much like poking a sleeping tiger, but you can’t quite help yourself. Although you can’t imagine that the Grandmasters reaction to your playful provoking would be nearly as fun as winding up Charles.

Leaning back in the chair, his fingers gently strum on the armrest as you approach, and you watch the subtle movements of those beautiful digits with interest. There was something fascinating about a man’s hands, rough and large and strong, thick but agile fingers capable of drawing the most amount of pleasure from your body, or causing infinite pain.

'Any particular reason why Shay was late this morning?' That confident voice drawls, snapping you out of your increasingly carnal thoughts.

You smirk at him as he leans forwards to rest elbows on the desk and steeples his fingers, regarding you over the top of them with an arched eyebrow.

'I don't know, did you ask Shay?' You try flippantly.

Despite the Templars attempted authoritative demeanour, he snorts amusedly, eyes crinkling and lips quirking in a ghost of a smile before schooling a more serious mask in place.

'I'm serious. I need them to do what they are told and when.'

'Oh it was only a bit of fun.' You mutter placatingly, circling the large leather and wooden chair to lean over Haytham’s shoulder.

Placing your palms on the smooth, bare skin at the side of his neck, you massage gently in small circles, rubbing your way down to broad shoulders, working away the tension coiled in them from hunching over a desk for hours.

The Grandmaster’s head lolls backwards with a soft sigh to against the back of the chair, a few appreciative hums of pleasure bubbling from his throat at your actions.

Eventually you slide your palms down across his chest and lean in to offer a small kiss against his warm cheek. You take a moment to inhale the heady scent of his aftershave and the, almost intoxicating, underlying male scent of his skin.

Reclining in the chair, Haytham ends up slouching, seeking the continued caress of your fingertips. It is most unlike his usual stiff and impeccable posture; today must have been very long and trying.

The rough texture of his jacked under your palms is suddenly not enough, you need the feel of his bare skin against yours and you begin to trail your lips down his stubbled cheek, not quite able to achieve the angle you want thanks to your positioning behind the chair.

Sighing heavily the Templar straightens his posture back to stiff formality, finally murmuring, 'I can't have them distracted.'

'It's not that when you are distracted.' You accuse, tone no longer flippant.

If he wants to be serious, fine. You have a few problems with the Grandmaster’s attitude and are becoming exceedingly tired of him blaming you for things that were not your fault. They were all happy for your distraction, when it suited _them_ of course.

Moving unhappily from being draped across his shoulders, and looking to pull away from the Templar’s touch, Haytham grabs your hand before you can retreat, easing you around the chair to face him. He offers a gentle kiss to your palm, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of your knuckles.

'If it sounds like I am blaming you, then I am not. I simply need to impress on you the significance of our work.'

Why did he always manage to make an apology sound as insincere as possible? As if, deep down, it was all still you?

'You tell me nothing and expect me to turn up and perform on demand. I have no idea where you disappear to without so much as a brief explanation or a goodbye most of the time. It sounds very much like you are blaming me for the fact you all can’t keep it in your trousers.' You mutter huffily in the Templar’s direction, but unable to meet that intense gaze.

The Grandmaster clucks his tongue, face ridged, an uneasy silence stretching for a few heartbeats more than was bearable.

'Perhaps it would be best if I head home.' You add, tired and weary, and very much wishing to leave the conversation before you said more that you might regret.

Wrapping large hands around your hips, Haytham pulls you gently into his lap, adopting a neutral tone. 'I would be disappointed if you did.'

You allow your body to be directed by his, sinking into the warm of his lap and fighting back a deep, weary, sigh. 'You can't have it both ways, Haytham.'

His cool gaze searches your face, jaw tense. The Grandmaster is not a man that likes being told what to do, or being called out on his bullshit, but eventually he huffs resignedly again through his nose, haughty demeanour melting. 'I know. If I were a slightly better man, and less selfish, I would send you away, sever all ties for everyone's safety.'

Your gaze drops from his to study the shining buttons on the trademark long navy coat, you idly play with one between your fingers, distracting your mind from focusing on the horrible, gut twisting, feeling when contemplating never seeing any of them again.

'I wouldn't want that.' You manage in a small voice.

The Templar’s warm palm rubs soothingly along your outer thigh. 'It would be infinitely better for you if you had never met any of us.'

'Well that wouldn't have been any fun.'

He returns your soft, playfully mocking smile. 'Very true, and since none of us would particularly favour that turn of events, then I believe you being closer is safer for everyone involved. I had hoped that you would consent to staying here, with William, indefinitely.'

A similar subject had been broached before, but you weren't quite ready to submit your freedom to these Templars, however much you missed them when they were not around.

'Why have me stay here?' You ask, puzzled as to why Johnson seemed the natural choice.

'Thomas has no fixed abode, he practically lives at the Green Dragon and the clientele of that establishment is…questionable.’

‘Like you lot, you mean.’ You tease him, but the Grandmaster only narrows his eyes at you.

‘I’ll have you know that our presence adds a note of respectability.’ He utters completely deadpan, and it’s enough to leave you giggling.

‘I have nowhere at the moment that you can stay with me, as I spend most of my time traveling. I would suggest Shay, I trust him fully to take care of you, but...'

'But?' You prompt at his pause.

Haytham gives you a devilish smirk, eyes sparking in humour. 'I’m not sure that I'd want you living with him on the Morrigan as the only woman with several dozen sailors.'

'You!' At his deep, rumbling laugh you cuff him on the shoulder.

‘The only others I would entrust your care to are Colonel Munro, or perhaps Pitcairn. Neither of whom you know very well, therefore I would not expect you to accept. Bill is amiable is he not?'

Hesitating, you are not sure how to express your reluctance without causing more argument form the Templar. It’s not that you wouldn’t be happy to spend more time with them, it’s just that you would like the option not to if you so choose. And living with any of them is likely to remove those choices, and probably certain freedoms

The corners of Haytham's mouth tug upwards playfully as he regards you staring at him in silence. 'You _could_ stay with Charles.' He says slowly, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him before now.

You must have made a face as the Grandmaster laughs heartily.

'I thought that might be the response. That is why I suggested Bill and not Charles; I was planning on avoiding any murders.'

Harrumphing at him you mutter, 'I know that I can tease Charles a fair bit, but I'm sure that, however frustrated or annoyed he was with me, he wouldn't really hurt me.'

'I was more concerned for Charles.' Haytham drawls. It earns him another soft playful thwack on the arm.

As lovely as William was, you don't want to live completely in their pockets. 'I enjoy my freedom. I would still prefer to go home in such times that I am not with you or when you all have work to do. I have work, Haytham, work and friends and my own life, I can't just drop everything.'

‘There is nothing that we could not give you.’

Dropping your gaze, you are back to studying the intricate patterns on his coat and not those distracting, wintery eyes. He doesn’t get it. A life time of service, of following orders and expecting others to follow his have left him with a sense that everything will bend to his, or the Order’s, will.

The Grandmaster offers an understanding nod, but you can tell that he is simply letting the issue go for now to make a reappearance with fresh arguments next time.

'Think on it at least?' He offers.

'Ok, I'll think about it.'

'That's all I ask, my dear. I would be most upset if anything were to happen to you.'

'You're just worried what would happen to your plaything.' You scoff teasingly, trying to steer off the more serious subject.

Haytham affords a mock-affronted expression. 'Do you think so little of us, that the only reason we would show concern was because you shared our bed?'

You roll your eyes at him. 'I'm sure good sex doesn’t have a hand in it.'

'Just good?' He purrs in a sinfully rich voice, thick fingers pressing a little firmer against your thigh as he leans close to lay a gentle kiss against your collar.

'What were you looking for?' You breathe as a warm, wet, tongue darts out to taste your skin. _'Spectacular_?'

'Certainly.' The Templar’s eyes flash in challenge.

'Someone thinks highly of himself.' You mutter teasingly, even as you slip closer on his lap towards the warm solidness of his body

'It's hard to deflate ones ego when one has heard the pleasurable breathy moans of ones name from your lips.' Haytham goads in response, fingers curling around your waist to cradle you closer.

He pulls you down for another distractingly hot kiss, but just as your lips press together there is a sharp knock at the study door and he startles, eyes darting towards it.

'It is likely Munro.' Haytham complains softly. 'He was due a briefing.'

'See how you like being interrupted.'

'Touché, madam'

With a grin and a final quick kiss on your cheek, the Templar shifts in his seat to spill you from his lap.

Smoothing back slightly tussled hair, Haytham picks up his discarded hat from the desk and secures it back on his head, muttering ‘come’ loud enough to carry through the office and the closed door.

You suddenly have a very naughty thought.

Licking your lips, you only have a few moments to make up your mind to proceed, as the door handle turns to admit the Templars outside.

Slipping off of the Grandmasters lap, you slide as gracefully as you can manage to the floor at his feet.

Haytham glances down at you kneeling between his open thighs with a confused expression.

'What are you doing?' He asks, puzzled, bending forwards in his chair to pull you to your feet, but you inch backwards into the small enclosed space under the desk and out of reach.

You can hear the heavy wooden door already opening with a soft creak, and Haytham glances quickly at it before fixing you with a stern look that would have once had to running away in fear had you not experienced his laugh and playfulness and had him practically purring in your bed on occasions.

'Get up here.' He hisses, but it's too late, the sound of male voices and heavy boots clicking across the polished wooden floor echo in the room, and the Grandmaster is forced to tuck his chair in closer to the desk to hide you beneath, or likely face jesting questions and amused comments from his men.

He catches your eye with an annoyed flash in his gaze, and you can't help grin as the usual, slightly-superior, haughty mask falls back into place just in time for the waiting Templars to reach the desk.

'Colonel Munro, Mr Pitt. How may I help?' He manages to utter, remarkably evenly.

Hiding under the desk, you try and control your breathing, making as little noise as possible as you listen to the Templars making introductions and setting out their assigned tasks. 

Satisfied that you have remained undetected, and that the other men have no clue as to your location, you shift closer towards the Grandmaster, pressing firmly against his legs and Haytham’s whole body stiffens in response to your touch. Shifting away from you doesn’t do any good, it’s too small a space and your body remains moulded to his.

With a mischievous smirk, you carefully run your palms up the worn leather of his boots, pausing at the top for a moment, before tracing your fingers across trouser covered knees. There is a delicate cough from the Grandmaster somewhere above you and the conversation stops abruptly. You hold your breath, thinking you have maybe gone too far, but the low mutter of male voices continues.

Running your palms along the inside of the Templar’s thighs, kneading gently from knee to almost his groin, you stop just short of the bulge between his legs.

Haytham shifts animatedly in his seat in response and pauses mid-sentence, causing you fight back a giggle. A large palm slips carefully under the desk, gently motioning you to shoo away, but you take no notice, enjoying your game.

Let's see how well he copes while being distracted.

The man at your mercy attempts to continue his conversation, something infinitely boring about finding a precursor site, and you will admit that you are very impressed with his resolve and ability to keep on track. That would be your cue to try and put the Grandmaster off, a little more at least.

Your gentle caressing of his body has resulted in the impressive tenting of his breeches, which almost _dares_ you to explore a little further. Pressing your cheek against his groin you rub like a cat marking its territory and his hips strain forwards with a sharp intake of breath.

'Sir, are you alright?' One of the Templars utters, you were sure it was Munro.

'Fine.' Haytham lies smoothly, body relaxing back into his chair. 'Just…tired.'

Glancing down, you rub your cheek against him again, loving the feel of the hard length of his cock through soft cotton breeches. You love the smell of him, like sex and musk, and you long to have the bare, velvety skin of his erection against your lips. You fight back a needy groan, not wanting to alert the unsuspecting Templars in the room. 

Pitcairn begins a long boring monotone of work in the area and you can feel Haytham bristle underneath you, knowing that he isn't escaping this situation any time soon.

Tracing your tongue over the hard line tenting his breeches, the cream coloured fabric is soon darker, soaked with your saliva. You feel the Templar pulse under you, cock straining for the source of its pleasure and there is a deep groan from Haytham’s throat as he glances downwards, his eyes catching yours as you flick your tongue over him.

The groan has obviously caught unwanted attention.

'Apologies John.’ The Grandmaster clears his throat. ‘Please continue. '

Pitcairn was evidently irked at Haytham’s inattention, or possibly felt the sighing was directed at him, so continues his monologue with a slightly more haughty tone.

Haytham shifts stealthily in his seat, trying to move away from your caress, but your body is practically moulded to his legs so he can’t escape far. If he were to move his chair any further back then you might be discovered, and, despite his current predicament, you don’t think that the Grandmaster is wanting that scenario either.

You are thankful for the large filled-in desk concealing you as you plan your next move. Carefully slipping open the buttons on the Templar’s breeches, peeling the now damp fabric apart and reaching inside, you stroke the bare length of his stiff cock and Haytham’s leg involuntarily jerks, accidentally kicking you under the table.

A large palm slips into his lap under the desk and gently strokes your cheek in way of apology, thumb soothingly caressing your skin.

You wonder if this is a good idea, and worry about being caught, but the idea of touching him so intimately while he's trying to retain that stoic composure, the thrill of getting by his men, the sheer _naughtiness_ of it spurs you on. You spill his cock from his breeches marvelling at the appendage resting against his thigh, framed by light coloured clothing.

Haytham's fingers curl tight, balling he fabric of his trousers at your touch. There is the softest of sighs, followed by an audibly hard swallow, his knuckles white in effort of retaining control as you lean in close to blow hot breath across his sensitive flesh.

You hear the Grandmaster making small, affirmative, noises occasionally to what Munro or Pitcairn were telling him, but you know that he's not really listening as his body pulses and strains against you.

The Templar’s entire body stiffens when you run the length of him with your tongue, leaving a shining trail of saliva. Powerful muscles quiver under you, body singing with excited tension as he exhales sharply.

As you place a few soft kisses along his shaft, you feel his cock pulse under you, straining upwards to seek the source of its pleasure.

Haytham's penetrating gaze dips below the desk, fixing your with a pleading look. He shakes his head from side to side mildly but it doesn’t stop you, enjoying the feel of him at your mercy too much to give in.

The Templar licks his lips, eyes transfixed on yours as you open your mouth and slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, drawing your tongue along the sensitive underside and suck gently. You pause your actions, pulse hammering in your throat as you hear a deep groan above you. Breathing hard you expect to be caught at any moment, but apparently the groan could be accepted as part of whatever the Templars were discussing, and the men prattle on relentlessly. 

You get to work, satisfied that the Grandmaster will not be giving the game away. His gaze darts back towards his men, allowing you to return to tormenting him. Almost smiling around the thick cock in your mouth enjoying picturing Haytham’s slightly unfocused expression, his back straight trying to appear as if he's listening, perhaps a smattering of sweat across his brow and trickling down his spine as he tries to keep composure, you suck as much of him as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks and caressing his shaft with your tongue as you eagerly bob your head in his lap. You watch his fingers flex and strain against the white fabric of his breeches with every lick, fingers almost white from their death grip on his own clothing.

'What do you think, Sir?'

There is a long, awkward, pause, and you almost snort in amusement if you weren't so busy trying to fit just another inch of Haytham’s wonderful prick into your mouth.

'Hmmm?' The man in question murmurs distractedly. He clearly hadn’t been listening and Munro’s question caught him off guard.

'I, um, I think.' The Grandmaster stammers uncharacteristically. He is usually so smooth with words, answer always at the ready.

Unwilling to let him off that easy, you lightly scrape your nails over the sensitive skin of his balls and the Templar shivers above you. He lets out a deep, shaky, breath when you wrap your palm around the base of his cock and _squeeze_.

'I, ugh, I'll think on it tonight and get back to you tomorrow.'

You were impressed that his voice was only betrayed by the slightest waiver, but otherwise sounded like the usual stern Grandmaster.

'You are dismissed for now gentlemen.' Haytham adds with a tone that brokered no argument, however it sounded as if Pitcairn wanted to discuss further and hummed until the Grandmaster was forced to bite out, _'dismissed_ ', a little more sharply than intended.

You return to small, kitten-licks across the straining erection in front of you as Munro and Pitcairn’s footsteps echo across the wooden flooring towards the study door.

The door creaks open, and the Templars voices sound distant but you can still feel the tension in the Grandmasters body.

Only once the door closes with a firm thud, and the room falls completely silent, does Haytham slump in his chair with an incredibly loud exhale of breath.

Gazing up the line of his body, you cans see him swallow hard, head resting back against the chair, broad chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow panting breaths.

After a few moments, Haytham moves his chair backwards, fixing you with that cool gaze as he stares hard down the line of his body at you.

Crawling out from under the desk you give him a wicked smile, but he only arches an eyebrow at you, legs still parted, body slightly slumped in the high-backed chair. The Templar’s bare cock still stands to attention, poking straight up from his breeches and glistening from the wetness from your mouth.

'You. Are in _big_ trouble.' He purrs dangerously with a stern look.

But you only lick your lips eyeing his obviously straining cock, indicating that you wish to continue.

'Fine.’ He caves. ‘Right after you finish this.'

Strong fingers thread through your hair as Haytham places his palm against the back of your head and pushes you gently downwards once more towards his groin.

You accept his direction, opening your mouth eagerly to swallow him down.

Now that the others have left, the Grandmaster is free to make as much noise as he likes, and he takes full advantage.

You love the low, greedy groans of pleasure from his lips and the deep shuddering breaths as you inch him towards orgasm. You feel powerful, reducing this important, unyielding, man to small whimpers of pleasure and desperation for your touch as he flexes his hips upwards off of his chair, body unable to resist thrusting upwards to meet your warm, welcoming, mouth.

You love this, the intimacy, the smell of him, the soft feeling of his skin rolling across your tongue. You want him, you _need_ him.

The Templar’s arousal is spurring your own and you ache for his touch, for the long hard length currently caressing your mouth to be plundering your body.

Haytham’s breath hisses from between his teeth, fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb caresses your cheek. Rolling your eyes up to meet his, those grey-blue eyes are hooded and unfocused, plump lips caught between his teeth and the slightest pink flush across his cheeks.

‘I’m –I’m very close. I thought I would warn you if you don’t wish to…’

He trails off with a shudder and you carefully shake your head, not willing to lose the momentum you have built up. With a sharp jerk of his body, and a deep groan, the warm salty tang Haytham’s cum fills your mouth.

Breathing heavily through your nose you try and swallow as much as possibly as his hips offer a few last shallow thrusts before the Templar sags visibly in the chair.

Discreetly wiping off your mouth, your eyes drag over the thoroughly spent looking Grandmaster lounging in Williams’s office chair, his heavy breathing echoing in the room. His hat has fluttered to the floor and his softening cock is still on display.

As Haytham’s gaze catches yours, he drags you up off of the floor into his lap, offering deep, probing kisses.

Moaning eagerly, you melt against the warm front of his body as his tongue probes yours, sweeping your mouth and sending all of your muscles south of your belly button fluttering.

Slipping carefully out of his lap, you smooth down your clothing, enjoying the Grandmaster’s uncharacteristically dishevelled appearance for a few more moments.

Clearing his throat, a shrewd, calculating look crosses those chiselled features. Standing, Haytham begins arranging his clothing and you almost miss the gentle ring of a bell calling for one of the servants.

The study door opens quickly, but instead of the household staff Thomas Hickey saunters in, his gaze sweeping from Haytham rearranging his clothing to you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of the Templar’s mouth.

'You need sum'fin, Sir.' Hickey drawls in his thick cockney accent.

'Yes, thank you, Thomas.  Please escort our guest to her room and lock her in there for the time being.'

'What?' You turn to the Grandmaster in shock. Surely he wasn’t really upset over your little game?

However, you find Haytham fixing you with a heated, predatory, gaze. He gives you a small, evil smirk, making a show of contemplating your fate.

Even Hickey seems surprised. ‘Just to check, Sir. Ye want me to pure ‘er in ‘er room?’

'Yes.’ Haytham confirms and you open your mouth but find no words coming out. Just what was he playing at?

As Thomas moves up beside you to follow his orders and escort you out of the study, the Grandmaster changes his mind. ‘In fact, Thomas, do not simply lock her in, if you would please tie her to the bed. Naked of course'

The Templar’s eyes widen as his gaze darts from Haytham to you. 'Um, yes Sir.' 

'There is nothing stopping you…enjoying yourself with the task until I arrive. Oh, and have Shay meet us there. '

You are struck dumb with a thousand questions and the audacity of Haytham talking over you as if you weren’t there, but he smirks, swaggering towards you, finally pressing his body against the line of yours and stealing a fleeting, but tantalising kiss.

'Let's see how disobedient of my orders Shay will be next time,’ Haytham breaths huskily in your ear, lips just caressing the ticklish outer shell, ‘watching you getting fucked seven ways to Sunday by a man that isn't him, hmmm.'

With that he lets Hickey escort you to bed and your punishment, or should that be reward, for tormenting the Grandmaster.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little rough fun with Charles, with added dress up to spice things up a bit. Hickey and Johnson can't help but join in either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some non consensual role playing if you have anything against that...Mr Lee just seems like the type.

 

You _had_ asked William; hesitantly and while in bed curled comfortable in his arms, stroking the dark hair that covered his chest. The sudden tension in his body and the look on his face told you his answer before his lips even said no. Gentle persuasion was attempted, but it wasn't the Templar’s style so you decided not to push him into anything that he was not comfortable with and let the matter drop.

Sex with William was lovely, and it wasn't as if you were left unsatisfied, but he was normally gentle; it wasn't in his nature to be anything else.

You idly wonder how on earth Charles had managed to talk him into teasing and tormenting that night with Hickey, and just like that, you had an idea.

Although you initially tried to put it from your mind and accept the Templar’s refusal, there was a still a little... _itch_ at the back of your mind that couldn’t quite be shaken off. Your body had a craving that you needed to satisfy. Sometimes you were in the mood for something a bit different, sometimes you just wanted to _fuck_ , nothing but desperation and passion and teeth and nails, with barely taking time to get undressed; full of hair pulling and bruises marking your skin from the intensity of it.

Haytham had _almost_ given you a taste. It was his fault really, for starting you off down a path where you were expecting something intense. With Hickey ordered to tie you up, it took both the Grandmaster and Thomas to manhandle a surprised Shay into a chair in preparation for your night of fun. You had thoroughly enjoyed the build-up; Thomas taking his time stripping and teasing you, tying you with spread arms and legs to the large ornate four-poster bed. The little noises of protest form a bound and gagged Shay were enough to leave you wriggling in excitement without even having to contemplate the large box of god know what kind of toys Haytham had ‘borrowed’ from Charles. But as with everything, something infinitely more important came up, Templars fleeing into the night on some surprise, unexpected, mission, and you were left arouse but unsatisfied.

Oh, they were very apologetic, but you had expected a night of torment and to be pounded into the bed dammit, not the gentle snuggles of William when a few of them returned late form the mission; Shay and Haytham still missing half way across the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taking a deep breath you knock lightly on the heavy wooden door, so hesitantly that you wonder if the man inside heard. After a short pause you hear a gruff, 'come' echo through the hallway.

Entering quietly you quickly spot the man you were looking for.

Charles Lee was hunched over a large desk with his back to you. He glances over his shoulder as you approach, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his features.

‘May I help you with something?' He asks, with a hint of smug amusement.

No doubt he thinks that you are here for some entertainment. Well he is not technically wrong in that assumption, but you don’t wish to play to his already over-inflated ego too much.

For some unknown reason your nerve fails you at the last moment, and you end up glancing away from his intense, penetrating, gaze.

'No, nothing especially. I just...wanted to see you.'

He gives you a slightly disbelieving look with one crook of a dark eyebrow.

You suppose that you didn't talk as much as the rest of them.  Lee wasn't a man to hug and snuggle in bed, there was something about him that you couldn't quite fully relax in his presence and he did not seem inclined to play the part of boyfriend either. The sex was spectacular, but it wasn't quite the close relationship you seemed to have with some of the others.

Charles scoots a small, goldish-red coloured, dog from his lap that had been curled happily there as he did paperwork, allowing you to slip into its place.

It amused you no end that Mr Lee had a collection of small, fluff-ball Pomeranians barely a few kilos in weight. It simply did not see like the kind of dogs for a man like him, but he treated them like they were children, and wherever Charles went, the select favourites followed. You often catch William casting disapproving looks at the furry terrors when they lounged on his furniture, but he wouldn’t dare chastise them. He would be secretly glad though, once they all vacated his home, guests or not.

The dog afforded you a stern, condemning look; likely grumbling over his place being unspurred from his master’s lap, before flouncing off to another part of the house, tail high in the air in indignation.

Charles gives you a soft kiss on your cheek as you settle into his lap and he returns to his work, no doubt knowing that you were here for something and biding his time. One large hand idly massages your thigh, making you very aware that it could be doing other things.

Swallowing hard, palms sweating, you might as well come out with it.

'Charles?' You enquire uncertainly, as he signs a piece of parchment with a violent flourish.

The Templar chuckles lowly, 'well that didn’t take long. Here it comes.'

You find yourself toying with a glinting gold button on his jacket, just for a distraction, unable to meet his gaze.

'You remember when, uh, you tied me up?'

'Hmmm.' He affirms, and you can suddenly feel his intense scrutiny on the side of your neck.

'And-and did other t-things?' God, you can feel your cheeks getting red already. You have been in various sexual scenarios with a practical orgy of men; he’s not going to judge. Just spit it out!

'Can we do something like that again? You could tie me up if you like or, um, something else like that if you, uh….prefer anything,’ you all but breathe eagerly, fidgeting in his lap and biting your lip, awaiting inevitable rejection.

You catch his amused grin as he slowly licks his lips, blinking back surprise across those normally stern features.

'Something like that?' He enquires innocently, rifling through a stack of documents, probably knowing full well that you had something specific in mind.

Damn him! The Templar going to draw this out to get maximum pleasure for him and embarrassment for you; he is going to make you confess what you really want, to the letter.

You bite your lip, searching his face; at least he looks eager. William had turned you down, it was a small sting but you respected his view point. You were betting, _hoping_ , that Charles wouldn't say no.

'Would you...pin me down? Be rough, as hard as you like, maybe pretend to, um, hurt me?'

You can see his eyebrows rise incredulously over each confession and find your voice trailing away and heat rising to the very tips of your ears.

'So, let me get this straight.’ Charles all but purrs in that terrifyingly sinister voice he manages, and that is exactly the man you were looking for. You can see the small dark smirk curl across his lips. Bastard was enjoying your discomfort. 'You want me to pretend I'm forcing you, so that you can plead no, when you are really enjoying it.'

You definitely should have asked him first, Lee caught onto your game quicker than William, and Bill had point blank refused to rape you, but he didn't understand you just wanted a rougher role play game, one that Charles usually was happy to play.

'Well, yes.' You mumble, suddenly unsure.

'Did you have a scenario in mind? Spy at the mercy of their Red Coat captor? Helpless virgin getting assaulted by highwaymen? Maybe…a maid called to the master’s study?'

You give his mocking a reproachfully look, embarrassment washing through you, muttering, 'if you are not interested...'

You aim to slip off of his lap huffily when strong fingers tighten firmly against your thighs, keeping you securely in place.

'I didn't say that I wouldn't.' He husks, enough for you to shiver, his hand resuming its gentle massage of your outer thigh. 'Tell me, I can't imagine that I'm your first choice. Who did you ask?'

You pout at the amusement in his tone. Charles doesn't seem concerned that he is not your first choice. You try hard not to play favourites, but have obviously failed at that and it makes you feel slightly guilty, even though the Templars do not seem to mind.

'I, ugh, asked...William.'

Charles let's out a deep throaty laugh. Usually he just sneers or smirks, it's the first time you have seem unrestrained humour from him and it softens his face and makes him more handsome, he should do it more often. His bottle green eyes sparkle with humour as he regards you pouting in his lap. 'Whatever made you think that Bill would take part in something so basely depraved and sordid?'

He didn't make depraved sound like a bad thing at all.

'I thought it might…open him up to other things a bit.'

'Not quite his style, my dear.’

Charles makes a show of pondering his answer for a few moments, eyes raking intimately across your face. He give you a surprisingly gently kiss, just the briefest press of his lips against yours and the delicate sweep of his tongue against your skin.

‘Leave it with me. I'll think of something.' He informed you with a slightly ominous smile that sent your stomach fluttering all on its own.

Oh, he agreed. It took you a few minutes to register that he was giving you everything that you wanted, everything that you were eager for. You were a little surprised that the Templar didn't want to start now, as you shift on his lap you can definitely feel a stirring under you.

As if reading your mind Charles smirks, 'there's no point doing it now. You are expecting it. So unless you wish to do other things at the moment; I have work to do.'

With a gentle swat to your thigh, you realise that you have been dismissed. As you slide out of his lap Lee presses a firmer kiss against the big pulse point on your neck, moustache tickling the sensitive skin there. His voice is dark and husky as he murmurs, ‘trust that my attack will be thoroughly prepared and when you least expect it. Make sure it is what you want, you will receive no mercy from me.’

Stumbling shakily out of the office door you glance back at the Templar’s bulky frame in excited anticipation, a nervous but pleasant fluttering in your stomach and a clench of intimate muscles much lower down. His parting words all but nearly had you clamouring back into his lap, demanding something right now.

'I'll think of something' He had said, and with only a few words he had built unbelievably delicious expectation for what was to come.

Your little chat left you on edge for the rest of the day, eagerly awaiting Mr Lee’s strike, but as usual the man managed to smugly restrain himself. The slightest noise began to startle you. When Charles placed his warm hands on your hips suddenly, you thought that he had decided to play, but he was simply squeezing past you at dinner, making sure that his body rubbed the full length of yours. He invaded your space at every opportunity until your head swam with the warmth of his body and senses were overloaded with his cologne.

You began to fear that Charles would never make his move. He had shown himself a man of remarkable restraint when the payoff would be good. Perhaps he would wait until another day, another week, a month even, or maybe when you were with him at his own manor. It would be difficult for him to fulfil your fantasy while you were staying with, William and with so many other Templars around.

It made you feel slightly guilty, imagining Charles and what he would do to you when William curled you up in his bed, but all you could think about was the glint in those green eyes, dark hair fisted in your fingertips you could even hear the swish of the riding crop that he loved to punish you with.

Your torment was aching; ongoing for days, with no sign of Charles putting his plan into action.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Curled up warm in bed you hear a small noise, distantly, while still half asleep. It doesn't initially register as anything other than your dreams. As your brain struggles back into consciousness the bed shifts, weight shifting upon it and your eyes flutter open in response.

You had snuggled up asleep beside William and groggily open your eyes to find his space on the bed empty, covers still tousled where he had lain. Rolling over, you seek the reason for your awakening and startle to find a different, seemingly foreign, pair of eyes trained intensely on you from the edge of the bed.

Body jerking, your mind suddenly panics, trying to focus harder, wake up faster, as you attempt to make sense of the stranger in the bedroom with you. Your breath hitches, unable to cry out in fear as shock freezes you to the spot.

The man places one knee on the edge of the bed beside you and it dips violently under his weight. He practically vaults over you to pin you down in a show of strength and speed, a large, rough, glove-covered palm clamping over your mouth to stifle the inevitable screams of surprise.

A solid male weight settles firmly on top of you causing you to wiggle in protest, but the stranger forces you down flat on your back, one hand over your mouth, the other pinning one of your arms against the bed.

You scream objection against your makeshift gag, your other hand futility grabbing at the rough texture of his jacket and the man grins arrogantly down at you. It is then that you recognise the eyes…’Charles?’ You mumble your shock against his gloved hand, but any sound is muffled.

Now that your sleep filled eyes are more focused, you take in the Templar’s unfamiliar appearance. He is wearing an unmistakable redcoat uniform, all buckles and straps along the front. A high black collar pulled up under his chin, white breeches and gaters covering dark boots. He has left off the accompanying hat, but his jet black hair is severely slicked back, and…and he has shaved! The usually dark upper lip is completely bare and there is no stubble lining his jaw. You can’t believe that Charles has actually altered his appearance so drastically…all apparently just for you. Although, you don’t want to admit that the look does not particularly suit him, and hope that once this is over he is planning on re-growing his moustache. He almost looks like a completely deferent man without it.

Charles hand leaves your mouth slowly as you relax into his embrace, realising that it was him, but you can still feel the imprint of the warm leather lingering against your skin.

Your pulse speeds, heart fluttering when he growls lowly, every muscle south of your belly button clenching at that very masculine noise promising everything you asked of him.

So he has finally picked his moment for your game. You will admit that he did manage to give you quite a fright for a moment there. Bastard. Perhaps you should have set up a few ground rules with him before letting him have free reign to terrorise you.

Your eyes flicker again to the empty bed beside you and Charles follows your look with a smug grin. He leans in closer, teeth and lips nipping along your exposed neck until you find yourself inevitably moaning against him, body arching into his touch.

'He’s not here.' Charles breathes in your ear, voice unlike his own, deeper, rougher. 'William and Thomas have been...called into Boston on an errand.'

Well that was convenient.

'There is no one here to help you. Or hear your screams.’ He murmurs slowly, savouring the rising panic and tension in your body. ‘I’m going to have you, any way that I chose.'

Oh. My.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, your pulse speeds in anticipation, just his words alone is enough to wash a flood of excitement through your body. You have a sudden admiration for the Templar’s planning and organisation. He has gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure that you were all alone, and that he could torment you with that fact.

'Same word to stop as last time.' He whispers quickly in your ear as his hands pin your arms up beside your head and lips return to reverently exploring your jaw line. When his teeth sink the delicate skin on your neck, he does so without hesitation or restraint, just ceasing short of ultimate pain and when you would ask him to stop.

Lee’s voice has taken on more of an authoritative tone, with a slightly sinister threat, and you realise that he is disguising his voice just as well as his appearance. 'I have seen you watching me, girl. Teasing. Leading me on.'

‘I didn't.' You protest weakly struggling up against the solidness of his body, but he is too heavy, and has too much leverage. There is no way that you are getting off this bed, unless he lets you, but there is something about that that you enjoy. Even knowing that trying to wriggle free is futile, you still do it. You enjoy it, and by the roll of his hips, Charles enjoys it as well.

'Liars find themselves in trouble.' He purrs evilly in response, hot breath skimming along your naked skin like a caress. The Templar leans down and kisses you. It was hard and rough and purposely sloppy, forcing you to try and pull back. He chuckles as you drag your lips away from his with a sour look, and renew your struggles.

‘Go ahead, struggle. I’m enjoying it.’

Charles laughs as you buck under him, straining in effort, but it only serves to slide the length of your body against his, his groin digging between your legs and you can feel every inch of his excitement press against you. Your resulting moan is of pure want and you mentally kick yourself. Dammit, you’re not supposed to be begging for him.

‘A few tears, maybe a scream or two would go along with this nicely. But let’s not fool ourselves, shall we? You are not really unhappy are you, girl? Whores are always eager.’

Lee treats you to another rough kiss, tongue plunging into your mouth to tangle with yours almost to the point of choking.

Coughing, you bite his lip, hard, and he pulls back with a startled hiss. Running a thumb across his lip, it comes away with a slight smear of blood.

You hadn’t quite intended to bite him that hard, or even at all for that matter, but got a little carried away in the moment. You are about to apologise but Charles grins wickedly, smearing the blood across your own lip from his gloved fingertip and giving you another bruising kiss. He slaps you on the cheek with the flat of his right palm, enough to make an impressive noise, but not to truly hurt. Your eyes still water from the shock of it, surprised that he was willing to take it as far as slapping you. Your cheek feels slight warm but are satisfied that it will not have left any marks.

The Templar’s fingers resume their tight grip of your wrists, weight forcing you into the soft mattress as he wiggles his hips into a better position.

'And now the master of the house is gone and the ward is all alone. What _am_ I going to do with you?'

Charles voice alone was almost enough to tip you over the edge, your body rubbing eagerly against him, his hips cradled by your thighs and every small movement pushed his pelvis against yours.

As Lee tongue dips into your mouth to claim ownership, you find your own responding, caressing along the slippery length of his. You vaguely remembered that you were supposed to be protesting, or at least acting that way, but it was difficult to focus when you were so aroused and wanted nothing more than him naked against you, his body driving into yours as roughly as he could manage.

You try a small, barely audible, whimper. 'Stop. Please.'

He only smirks and kisses you again, swallowing protests by shoving his tongue into your mouth again, deeply, forcibly, teeth scrapping against your abused bottom lip.

He was playing his part so well.

'You are a desperate little slut, aren't you?'

You wriggle in protest at his words, discovering that you are still quite securely trapped. Pushing upwards with your legs doesn’t help much or cause much of a difference as Charles flattens out, grinding his pelvis into you and forcing you flat while his lips set fire to your skin.

'You want it.' The Templar purrs, lips shining and pink from the intense kisses.

Each no of protest heightens your arousal as he ignores your pleas. Even warm musky smell of him engulfing you and the solid, unyielding, body trapping yours adds to your pleasure.

Charles releases one of your wrists to free his hand to roughly caress your breast through the thin nightshirt you had on. It wasn’t really night clothes, it was Williams shirt; loose and too big for you. You loved wearing their clothes, whether it was Haytham’s jacket, or one of their shirts. You loved the feel of the silk garment against your skin and the masculine scent etched into their clothing surrounding you as you slept.

The Templar’s gloved thumb works over your nipple until it peaks and strains through the cloth and he laughs lowly as you gasp and arch under him.

'I saw you. Making eyes at me. Licking your lips. Desperate for a real man to satisfy you.'

There was the sound of tearing echoing through the bedroom as Charles tugged violently at Williams’s shirt. The seams gave way easily, leaving the fabric in tatters around your body, barely clinging to tor arms and shoulders.

You experienced a moment of panic; wondering how you would explain the damage to William, but Charles’ hand was roaming your bare skin; skimming across your breasts and stomach, tracing the curve of your thigh and hip, and all that mattered was his touch on you and of how much more you wanted. You tried hard to keep up the act of shying away, but your body was leaning into his caress, wiggling wilfully into a better position to allow him access.

A tongue darts out to swipe across your straining nipple and the wet bud tightens in the cooler air, causing you to shiver and moan. The Templar’s mouth latches on and sucks greedily, and it feels so…so _strange_ , to have no facial hair rub against your sensitive skin. Shining green eyes roll upwards, watching your face as his teeth graze your nipple once more, tugging and stretching the skin ever so slightly, waiting for your reaction.

Charles slips a thick finger between your legs and draws the rough leather along the length of your cleft, leaving you mewing at his touch.

'Soaking wet,' he all but purrs with glee, 'and you have the gall to protest that you don't want it.'

You shudder involuntary under him, hips raising unconsciously just a fraction, seeking out the continuing touch of his hand.

Releasing hold of your wrists, Lee raises off of you slightly to loosen his uniform breeches, and you quickly wriggle out from underneath him in a token effort to escape.

You don’t get very far and are soon caught, wrestled back towards him and dragged back down the bed with all that surprising male strength. This time you are pressed firmly face down against the pillows, Charles weight pushing against you and hips cupping your backside.

Bucking against the press of his body, you feel the throb of velvety erection against your arse as he has loosened his trousers enough to free his hard cock, warm hands skimming across your bare skin, manoeuvring you into a pliable position.

'This is what happens to silly girls that lead soldiers on.' Charles bites down slightly on your earlobe as he grinds his hips against you.

Your protest, or should that be moan of pleasure, is muffled by the pillow under you. Your fake cries of ‘no’ soon turn into a ‘ _please, yes’_ when the Templar wriggles a hand between the bed and your body an offers a few teasing strokes of your clit.

Your body sings with tension and need, skin hot everywhere that he touches, frustrated at being trapped and unable to move just how you want thanks to his body covering yours. You have never wanted, _needed_ , anything so much as Charles to be inside of you right this instant, fucking you roughly. Your incensed wriggling is no longer fake protest as part of your game; its encouragement, a need for him to do something, _anything_ , to satisfy your desire right dammed now.

Charles easily flips you, turning your position once more to face him. Using his teeth, he quickly pulls off the dark brown leather gloves, leaving his hands pale and free and able to roam your naked body as he wishes. As a token of struggle, you futility try swatting his hands away, but he easily captures both your wrists in one large hand while the other runs smoothly along the hard length of his cock, positioning him between your legs at just the right angle for penetration.

Your breath hitches in eagerness, hips stilling their movements and waiting for that first, delicious, thrust that will embed him inside of you.

'I'm going to enjoy fucking you, dominating you,' The Templar teases, rubbing the tip of his cock through your wetness until you whimper, gaze falling on his, 'and when I'm done I might just tie you, legs spread, and have the rest of the battalion fuck you one after the other too.'

You moan loudly, back arching. Just the thought of it; helpless and restrained taken by a group of rough soldiers, combined with Charles sliding his cock forcefully in your body, has you shuddering in unexpected pleasure as you clamp down on his intrusion, muscles quivering around him.

Charles looks stunned that you came so quickly, but promptly recovers back to the sneering soldier personality as he begins moving his hips to thrust into you with force.

'No.' You cry, all the while moving your body against him, fingers curling into the red coat of his uniform to hold on for dear life.

Baring his teeth, Lee picks up scraps of the torn shirt, looping a length around your wrists and securing them to the bed high above your head.

You test the bonds, wrapping fingers around the smooth material but you are quite securely trapped, and now that Charles doesn’t have to worry about pinning you down, he sets to work exploring every inch of you with greedy lips and hands.

He kisses you fiercely, loosening his jacket as little beads of sweat begin littering his brow from the effort of his assault. He takes you relentlessly, violently, large calloused fingers pressing down onto your clit to drive you to the edge of another quick and unexpected orgasm. It’s so tight and with little foreplay you hadn’t expected to cum the first time, let alone be so close again.

Charles mutters a few obscenities lowly in your ear, reiterating what he would enjoy watching other men do to you and it’s enough to push you over the brink once more. His pubic bone scrapes your clit as his hips drive upwards vigorously and you cum again, shuddering against him, body tightening around him so much so that it causes his own orgasm and a deep feral groan to escape from his throat.

Vision blinded by an explosion of coloured stars, and voice hoarse from screaming, you barely register Charles collapsing on top of you, his solid weight pining you for just a few moments as you both gasp for breath. After a few thundering heartbeats he quickly reaches up to free your wrists from the headboard before settling down on the bed beside you.

'Was that what you wanted?' Charles says with a smug lilt to his voice, sounding very much like his old self.

You nod mutely, still dazed and panting. ‘It was better,’ you eventually manage to confess with a hoarse voice, still aware of the lingering touch of his fingers and mouth on your body.

‘Your moustache…’ you start but trail off leaving your thoughts unfinished.

Charles chuckles, rubbing his fingers across his jaw and top lip. ‘Doesn’t suit me, does it?’

Your silence obviously answers for you.

‘I was thinking that while I shaved it off. It’ll grow back fairly quickly.’ He offers with a smirk, straightening the red coat jacket.

'Where _did_ you get the uniform, by the way?'

The Templar grins. 'We have a few. Liberated from a few soldiers a long while ago as part of a mission. You never know when they might come in useful again.'

You take a moment to imagine the delicious sight of Haytham and the other Templars in the same uniform. They would look so incredibly handsome.

There is a low laugh from beside you on the bed. Charles probably knowing exactly what you were imagining.

'I had a feeling you might like it.' He husks, easing closer towards you and distracting you from a witty reply with some tantalisingly hot kisses.

Distracted by his mouth, you don’t catch the mischievous gleam in those bottle green eyes.

Rolling gently on top of you, Charles slips the tattered shirt scraps over your hands and secures you to the bed with his makeshift restraints once again.

Licking your lips and swallowing hard, you had no idea that he would be ready to…play again so quickly. Straining upwards in anticipation of what other pleasures to expect from him, you are soon very confused as he deftly rolls off the bed.

‘What are you doing?' You ask, puzzled, as you watch Charles straighten his jacket and pull the heavy leather gloves back on.

With no answer other than that arrogantly smug grin, you tug at the bonds and wriggle on the bed more vigorously, but find your fastenings quite secure.

The Templar gives you a roguish look. Pulling a clean white handkerchief free from his pocket he stuffs it into your mouth, muffling your shocked protest.

'I think I'll leave Bill a little present.'

Eyes wide in panic you shake your head furiously but only get his haughty sneer in response.

That wouldn't be fair at all; leaving you naked and tied in William’s bed, obvious what you and Charles have been doing. He knew how much William found these types of activities…distasteful.

‘Don’t worry, they won't be long.' He reassures, mockingly. 'I only sent them on a short errand. Maybe you will get lucky Thomas will be with him when you are discovered.'

You struggle in vain, begging him to let you go but Charles places a final kiss against your cheek and leaves, closing the bedroom door firmly behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

‘Would ye’ look at that.' A deep cockney accent interrupts your fitful dozing.

You were not sure if William’s astounded expression on finding you tied and gagged in his bed was amusing on not. He certainly didn’t look amused.

You spare a firm glare at Hickey though, who let out an amused chuckle as he followed William into the bedroom where you had just spent an uncomfortable hour or two unable to move thanks to Mr Lee.

Charles is so getting some nasty payback for this little stunt, but you really shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man, really.

Hickey’s eyes roam hungrily over your naked form and you don't miss the slight flick of his tongue over his lips. 'Charles might be a prick but I'm likin ‘is idea ov a present.'

William shakes his head wearily in response to his colleague’s playful jesting, eyes resolutely on yours and not your nakedness, and approaches the bed. It dips as he places a knee on the edge and reaches up to untie your wrists from the headboard.

'Hang on just a sec, Bill.' Thomas stops him releasing you and stalks closer towards the bed before slipping gently onto it and curling his lean body against the side of yours. He smells like the fresh and crisp night air that he has been out in, the cool material of his jacket causing you to shiver as it presses against your naked skin.

Thomas begins lazily trailing his fingers across your bare stomach. 'Just look at the poor lass, all tied up an’ ‘elpless an’ all. Would be a shame if someone was ter take advantage of ‘er.' He purrs with a sly smirk.

Your heartbeat thuds in your chest from the nearness if their bodies. You had been angry with Charles for his little trick, and had become increasingly uncomfortable with being tied for so long in the one position. But now…with both Thomas and William here, perhaps you were not so uncomfortable that you had to be let up right away…

Your stomach jumps under Hickey’s wandering fingers, pleasure creeping along your body and skin tingling where his touch caresses your bare skin. God, you really really hope that they are going to take advantage. You give a hopefully pleading look to William, but he still moves to untie you.

Hickey covers the other Templar’s hands to stop him and eases the piece of cloth from your mouth. You flex your sore, stiff, jaw and notice that your tongue feels horribly dry.

'Come on, love,' Thomas purrs as he buries his head against the side of your neck and begins placing soft kisses, 'tell Bill ‘ow much ye want ‘im ter fuck ye.'

'Please!' Your voice is hoarse and scratchy from the gag but the goosebumps shivering down your chilling skin have more to do with two warm bodies pressing against yours and the tantalising trail of Hickey’s mouth across your throat.

'Tell ‘im what ye want ‘im to do to ye while yer all tied up.'

Thomas finds a particularly sensitive spot just behind your ear and attacks it with his lips, causing a fresh wave of writhing and straining at your bonds. Your gaze locks onto the light blue of Williams as he watches your naked body buck under him with a definite look of interest.  He sighs gently, fingers caressing the knots of Lee’s makeshift bonds, still threating to untie you, ‘how much do you want this?’

You only nod enthusiastically, voice occupied by heavy panting as you strain upwards against the wonderful feeling of Hickey’s lips against your neck.

William dips his head to give you a soft kiss, beard tickling around your mouth and you respond eagerly, encouraging him to do more. Finally pulling away, his thumb trails across your pouting bottom lip as he discards the gag to the floor. ‘I’m not putting that back in.’

Fingers trail delicately over your hands, your wrists, down your tied arms in a slow, teasing caress as he fights internally over his decision. William shares a look with Thomas, who has his trademark naughty grin in place.

Caving into his desires, Johnson stretches out at your other side, his long, toned body cradling the side of yours until you are happily sandwiched between the two Templars. His mouth moves down across your jaw to the side of your neck and you shiver uncontrollably under soft fuzzy, butterfly kisses.

It's such an odd, but incredibly stimulating sensation, having both William and Thomas on opposite sides, mirroring each other’s actions.

With lips either side of your neck, you are unsure how to move or response, trapped between them in a wonderfully overwhelming way, overstimulated and panting in want.

William’s large hand glides gently down between the valley of your breasts and across your stomach. His incredibly warm palm rests there, fingertips tracing small circles back and forth across your abdomen, leaving you positively aching for his touch to dip lower.

The Templars nuzzle their way across your collar and down to your breasts in tandem, the only difference being the slight tickle from William’s facial hair.

You moan greedily as their lips nuzzle the heavier weighted flesh of your breasts, tongues darting out to circle your areola, warm breath caressing your goosbumping skin.

Watching the top of their equally dark heads hover over you you only have a moment to prepare for their onslaught, wondering how they manage to do it so easily in unison as both men each engulf a nipple in their mouths and begin to torment their prize with their tongue.

Your nipples instantly peak under their ministrations and you find your hips arching of the bed, desperate for more but unable to ask, simply begging with your body and low intelligible moans. Your hands strain against the bonds until your fingers go numb and you need to force yourself to relax your shoulders.

Hickey’s hand skims down your body and pauses next to Williams for a moment, caressing back and forth across your hips with calloused fingers before pushing down further.

You can’t see down the length of your body thanks to their preoccupation with your breasts, and every unexpected touch sends a little shock through your body, leaving you wriggling against the warm heat of them. It’s too much, the feeling of both Templars intent on tormenting and teasing you, you unable to response or even touch them in return. The pleasure is overwhelming and you strain against the bonds unsure whether you need to beg them to stop for the sake of your sanity.

Thomas takes a moment to trail the tips of his fingers through the tight curls covering your sex, stroking briefly before dipping lower. Long, elegant digits slip between the folds of your pussy until he can circle your clit in small, maddeningly slow, strokes.

Your brain fires off little pulses of pleasure through every nerve ending at his touch, unable to articulate your desire, you are left to offer low moans and bite your lip to gain some semblance of control as your body seems to buck and twist all on its own.

William’s hand wanders lower too, finding your clit already occupied by Thomas, he is forced to dive lower, circling your entrance and finding you still wet and sticky from Charles enthusiastic lovemaking earlier. The Templar slides two big fingers easily into your welcoming body, earning him a load scream of pleasure from you and a low chuckle from Thomas.

You can’t think, can’t make sense of what is happening to you other than two completely different yet exactly the same hands toying with you, teasing gratification from your body. It’s like one man has been split in two, both sides of the same whole working together, driving you to the brink of orgasm.

William begins to twist and tease his fingers inside of you, stroking along your inner walls with skill, while Thomas continues rubbing your stiff, swollen, clit with a single minded determination to have you moaning his name.

Releasing your nipple to capture your lips, William steals away your cries of pleasure, tongue dipping into your mouth to tangle with your own.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, overwhelmed at all the stimulation. With Charles it seemed a little less completely overpowering being one on one, but with both large men intent of taking every inch of pleasure from your body it seems a little uncontrollable. All you can smell is them, all you can taste is their skin and scent and smell the deep intoxicating aroma of sex as all your nerve endings tingle with pent up arousal.

Thomas is more than happy to entertain himself, running his free palm over soft mounds of flesh while William seems reluctant to give up his place at your mouth. Their fingers work steadily, continually pushing you towards orgasm with the slightest flick of their wrists.

Between them, the Templars work you into an overwhelming orgasm, leaving you bucking and thrashing against your bonds, with your hips arching and vision blurring white.

As your body peaks you forget how to breathe, all focus on the sensation rippling from deep within you to your toes and even the tips of your fingers. Your arms ache from their forced position for so long and muscles tremble from stimulation. Your eventual breathing is heavy and laboured and you can feel sweat causing your hair to curl at the back of your neck and gather between your breasts and along your spine.

They are not finished with you just yet but you are not sure how much more you can possibly take as you lie panting and dazed, aching from so much pleasure.

William slips easily off of the bed to undress and you watch the slow reveal of tight, taut muscles, with a hungry fatality, knowing full well that you wouldn’t say no to that delicious body providing just a little more stimulation.

Your gaze is drawn to the other side, as the mattress dips when Thomas rolls off to do the same. He has fewer layers than William and is soon kneeling beside you, wonderfully naked and caressing his cock inches from your waiting body. Licking your lips you watch the tease of Hickeys fingers across his own straining flesh, fascinated by the play of muscles in his hips and arm as he strokes himself. He’s much thinner than William, leaner, not an ounce of fat or an extra pound on him. The black of his tattoos stands out in stark contrast to pale skin, begging to have your fingers or tongue trace their outline, but you are tied and can’t even have the pleasure of doing that.

There is just enough give in the scraps of shirt that is tying you to the bed frame to allow Hickey to roll you onto your side as he spoons next to you. The warm press of his chest feels wonderful against your back, as does the rather intimate press of his cock against your bare backside.

You whimper, instinctively pushing back against him, rocking your hips, indicating what you want.

Hickey let's out a low chuckle as his tongue traces the lobe of your ear. 'Eager are we, love?' He teases, sliding his cock through the warm slick between your legs, but not _quite_ providing penetration. His hand presses against your hips before sliding across your stomach and upwards to eventually cup your breasts, cradling you against his body.

Head lolling backwards, soft moans escape your throat as he pinches and teases your already mauled nipples, loving the way he inhales the scent of your hair and the hard pants of excitement as his chest heaves against your back. You love that they want you and are not afraid to show it.

William finishes undressing and slips onto the bed to face you. He presses close, his velvety cock rubbing against your belly and leaving a small cooling trail of cum across your skin. He groans as he watches it, pulling you even closer to him for a bruising kiss.

William pulls your leg across his hip, opening you up to him and allowing his cock to press intimately, teasing the opening of your body with a few shallow thrusts of his hips. He wiggles into a better position, palms cupping your thighs to hold you against him.

You watch those blue hooded eyes, pupils dilated, face relaxed in a primal pleasure as he is about to get exactly what he wants.

With a gentle flex of his hips, Johnson slips inside of you smoothly, burying himself as far as possible in one effortless thrust.

You gasp in sensation at the incredibly amazing feeling of your inner walls clamping down around his invading cock, your body cradled against the board muscle of his chest. It feels so good, so right, as if you fit together perfectly despite all the differences in body and size.

You soon feel restless, you need movement, and friction, now that he is inside of you, it’s wonderful, but you need more.

Hickey inches closer to your back, hips cupping your arse tightly and you find that you can’t move an inch. Hands bound, body twisted, you are completely at their mercy. Thomas’ hands curve eagerly around your breasts, rhythmically squeezing and massaging them, thumbs brushing your sensitive nipples trapped against the tight press of Williams’s muscled chest at the front of you.

Pressing himself against where William was already joined with you, Hickey tries to ease forwards, hips bucking against you.

You hiss into Williams kisses as Thomas tries to squeeze himself into your already more than adequately filled pussy, not convinced that these two large men will fit. You whimper around them as they succeed, Thomas stroking your thighs and William kissing you soothingly as you become accustom to both of them at the same time.

As you become used to the two men, body relaxing into their embrace, the feeling of being painfully stretched is giving way to incredibly, wonderfully full, and when they start to gently buck against you you writhe uncontrollably, trapped between their warm solid bodies.

You don’t even have to move, not that you have the leverage anyway. Trapped between them, the Templars are more than happy to do all the work, hips easing back and forth in unison. It’s a messy tangle of bodies and limbs but they make it work, firm hands on your hips, pulling and pushing you in tandem with their movements.

William reaches up and releases your wrists from your bonds, and as much as you had been enjoying being tied at their mercy, you sag with relief as your arms are allowed to fall back into a more natural positon. Your shoulders ache from stretched muscles and there is an odd tingling sensation where the tips of your fingers have fallen asleep.

With your arms free it allows you to shift closer to the Templar in front of you, fingers splaying over the defined pectoral muscles of his chest. You run your nails delicately across his skin, enjoying the slight shiver at your touch.

Hickey has managed to squeeze himself closer, hips smacking hard against your backside with every thrust.

You turn your head and lean over your shoulder to give the mischievous cockney an eager kiss, which he responds to with a cheek smirk and wink. His tongue sweeps every inch of your mouth, teasing along the length of your own and you note that he tastes of his habitual whiskey as you swallow down the spicy tart taste of him.

Not to be left out, Johnson places a finger under your chin and drags your lips backwards towards him so that he can claim a deep, penetrating kiss for himself.

‘I’m just bout done, How bout you, Bill?’

‘I’m getting there, Tom.’

‘What bout you, love. Need any ‘elp?’ Hickey teases, fingers skimming down across your stomach inching between your body and William’s to slide across your clit. A pleasurable spasm wracks your body at his touch, driving the Templars just a fraction of an inch deeper and all three of you let out a low moan.

‘There we go.’ The playful tone of Hickeys voice is now mixed with a deeper underlying husk as he clearly approaches his own orgasm.

You cover Thomas’ hand with your own, repositioning his long skilful fingers just a fraction and pressing a little harder against your clit as you manoeuvre him just where you want him. You feel him grin against your shoulder as he takes his new instructions on board and swipes through the folds of your pussy with renewed determination.

You are soon quivering as another orgasm washes over you, rippling outwards from your teased clit and locking tight every muscle in your body. Moaning loudly you don’t even realise your nails scrape into Williams arm, but he doesn’t seem to mind, body still eagerly bucking into yours.

As your muscles dance around the Templars embedded within you, you hear deep male grunts from in front and behind. William stops moving first, chest panting against yours heavily as he bites his lip, cock pulsing deep within your body.

Thomas offers a few last thrusts and a soft whisper of ‘ _fuck’_ in your ear when you clamp down around him, moaning in pleasure. His fingers curl into your hips enough to likely leave bruises from the intensity of it.

Finished, bodies sweating in exertion, as the three of you wriggle restlessly their softening cocks slip from your body with a soft moan of disappointment. You are so tied you can’t even move your leg from being wrapped around Williams hip. It takes the Templar to gently manoeuvre you off of him to lie flat on the bed and you couldn’t care less about the cooling sweat on your body, your messy hair or even the uncomfortable mix of cum leaking from you onto the bed below.

Thomas and William seem quite happy to curl up either side of you and regain their breath also, unfazed by the mess that they have made.

Hickey is the first to break the recovering silence. ‘Remind me tae send Charlie boy a thank ye note.’

You snort amusement as his joking, joining in with a small laugh, ‘you think flowers would be too much?’

‘Ye can tie ‘em up with the restraints.’

You can practically hear William roll his eyes as you and Thomas continue to giggle. ‘You two are unbelievable,’ he mutters affectionately, dragging a blanket up to wrap around all of you for a happy, post coital nap.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date and gifts abound with the Grandmaster. William cant resist joining in either, and we have the promise of future fun with the other Templars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, I haven't abandoned the Templar boy band and hope to be right back on track with more coming chapters of our favs!

 

 

With an exaggeratedly audible huff Thomas Hickey practically stumbles through your front door and into the hallway, his arms laden with boxes.

'Seems a lot of bloody eff’rt for a night out I'll tell ye.' He mutters, dropping the load unceremoniously onto the nearest armchair. A few stray packages silently flop onto the floor from the pile and he watches them do so with growing disinterest.

Shay Cormac strolls casually through the doorway behind Thomas, his tall, dark, and rather intimidating look, softened by the impish grin across his clean shaven jaw; he clearly let Hickey do all of the hard work.

Surveying the chaos now in your living room, you carefully try to pry a few lids open to check what's inside, pointedly ignoring the playful jibes that the two Templars are now giving one another. You were far too busy curiously nosing through the packages to hear the soft footsteps of Haytham creep in behind Shay and approach you. You let out a small, undignified squeak of surprise when he sneaks up behind and grabs a box that you were about to unwrap.

Straightening, you smooth your clothing and try to not act too excited to see what he had brought you, feigning disinterest in the large bow wrapped box he now holds in his possession.

‘Grandmaster. To what do I owe the honour of a visit?’

He returns your snark with an elegantly arched eyebrow, placing the box on top of the pile and sweeping his hat from his head, carefully smoothing back any unruly escaping strands of hair.

You notice him slyly taking a good long look at his surroundings and realise that this may just be the first time the Grandmaster had actually been inside your home.

'They are showing the beggars opera at the theatre in Boston tonight.’ He comments casually, still cataloguing your décor with interest. You were willing to bet that he could probably describe the room in great detail hours from now. ‘I had a mind to attend, with you of course, if you are willing.'

You can’t quite help the wide, excited grin spreading across your face at the proposal. Well he did promise you a proper date after all, and here he was, with a night out at the theatre no less.

Waving your arms at the pile of boxes you leave him anticipating your obvious agreement for a bit longer. 'But what is all of this?'

'You will need suitable attire of course.' Haytham stated smoothly in that smug tone of voice of his that usually meant that he had thought of everything and would no doubt have an answer for everything as well.

'O' co'rse.' Thomas echoed under his breath, clearly put out at being the one left to carry all of the luggage.

Shay sat and spread himself easily across the couch, seemingly disinterested in the topic of conversation while Thomas wrestled a few more boxes back into place that were threatening to fall and topple the pile.

‘Well, I don’t know-’ You begin, in a hesitant voice, making a show of contemplating your options ‘-I might have other plans for this evening.’

A faint cough from the direction of the couch failed to cover Shay’s snort of amusement.

The Grandmaster bristled, turning those icy grey eyes towards you, one eyebrow arched in challenge. If it were Charles looking at you like that it might mean for some trouble. Trouble of the fun kind that you thoroughly enjoyed whenever Mr Lee decided to dish out his punishments for saying no.

Smirking at him you watch a little muscle in the Grandmaster’s jaw twitch, he’s not a man that appreciates teasing but he returns your smirk, narrowing his eyes at you. He licks his lips slowly, turning for the door.

‘Well, if you are not interested.’ He comments offhandedly. ‘I’m sure Charles won’t mind going with me.’

‘No wait-‘ You were not seriously about to turn him down and Haytham turns back to you with a soft laugh at calling your bluff. He wasn’t about to go without you either.

'Excellent. Shall we say that I’ll collect you at 6pm then?' He stated in his usual confidently affirming way, before putting his hat carefully back on and heading towards the door after you offer a small nod of agreement. You were too busy trying to kerb the bubbling excitement and your desire to start ripping open the presents that you had been brought, eager to start getting ready right this minute in preparation for tonight.

Shay and Thomas follow in the Grandmaster’s wake, poor Shay having to drag himself up from his lounging position across your furniture.

Haytham pauses briefly in the hallway as you escort them out. ‘I have things to do until then, but I look forward to seeing you later.’

At the door you happily receive a small kiss on the cheek from each man in turn, earning a few scandalised tuts from passers-by on Boston’s busy streets.

'I shall see you this evening.' Haytham mutters huskily, as warm lips drag across your cheek.

There is a promising lilt in his voice and those deep, penetrating eyes definitely sparkle in mischief. You are pretty sure that he has some interesting shenanigans planned for your ‘date’ tonight.

'If you get fed up with the toffs, love,' Shay teased with a small smirk, ‘me an' Tom'll be in the pub.'

'Oh, I doubt I'll be bored.' You grin with a sly glance at the Grandmaster.

'Yeah, next time we'll take ye out an’ show ye a prop’er good time. None o' this opera shite.' Thomas agrees with all his usual eloquence.

Haytham rolls his eyes in response.  'The two of you could use a little culture.' He jokes playfully. 'I doubt there is much culture, or an interesting night out for that matter, at the bottom of a tankard at the Green Dragon.'

Thomas and Shay take the Grandmaster’s jesting in good fun, with Shay and Haytham finally departing to complete whatever important Templar business that they had to deal with this afternoon, leaving Thomas to carry in a final box.

Hickey makes excuses to stay and see himself home later. The Templar obviously loitered for a good reason as his reward for all his hard work- well it’s the least you could offer-is a deep, tongue-probing kiss. A kiss that quickly turns into more kissing. Endless kissing and wandering hands, hands that waste no time in carefully undressing you and bending you face first over the arm of a sofa where he can tease and stroke and coax you into orgasm.

 

 

 

 

 

After an enticing afternoon with Thomas you eventually manage to throw him out, despite protest, as you really need to get ready. With the Templar gone you take a nice long time preparing for your night out. You had all afternoon to primp and preen and soak in a lovely hot bath.

The prospect of a date with the Grandmaster was interesting but that was just going to be a distraction, a tease, a build-up. The date would be the starter but the main course was obviously going to be a night of, hopefully, enjoyable and exhausting sex.

You soften you hair, brushing thoroughly, carefully exfoliating your body and rubbing fragrant lotion into your skin in a bid to tease his senses tonight.

A quick poke around the delivered boxes revealed all manner of under things, dresses, shoes and jewellery. The main dress, you thought for a brief moment, was the same rather revealing one that Charles had presented you with. However it turned out that the one Haytham had given was better fit for public showing. It was almost identical in style and colour, although the full hem touched the ground this time and neckline, although dipped in sharp V, did not reveal your breasts. No peek-a-boo panels, no audaciously high splits, no teasing lace, it was almost the most elegant and refined thing you owned. It was still very daring, exposing a long line of bare neck and collar but at least intimate body parts were not going to be exposed to Boston’s public.

 

 

 

 

 

At a very sharp six p.m. Haytham arrives to collect you as agreed. You are rather surprised to see William Johnson in tow, looking clean and polished and very much like he was going on a date as well.

‘Gentlemen.’ You greet politely and Johnson offers you a gentle, and much appreciated, kiss on your cheek.

‘I see you didn’t make an effort.’ You tease Haytham, who still had on his trademark long navy coat despite the obvious expense and effort he had went to to ensure you had an array of clothing choices for tonight’s festivities.

‘I changed.’ He stated, a little huffily, and you raise a challenging eyebrow at him.

‘Into the same outfit?’

The Grandmaster shrugs, nonplussed. ‘My clothing is practical, and comfortable.’

Laughing, you catch William smirking at your cajoling over Haytham's shoulder. ‘Just how many of those coats do you own?’

William mouths ‘dozens’ quietly behind the Grandmasters back and Haytham chuckles. ‘I heard that, Bill.’

You shake your head silently laughing, so Haytham’s idea of dressing up was putting on a cleaner version of the outfit that he already had on? That struck you as more of a Hickey thing to do. William at least looked a little different in matching waistcoat and frockcoat. He had abandoned his usual tartan shawl in favour of crisp white cravat and also swapped his worn-in knee high soft leather boots for polished buckled shoes and calf-huggingly defining stockings.

‘I’ll remember my powdered wig for next time.’ Haytham mocked, steering you towards the carriage they had arrived in that was now waiting patiently for you.

‘You will look lovely.’ You affirm, carefully sliding into the back. Gathering the long hem of your dress, the silky fabric rustles over the padded leather seats while you wait for the Templar to climb in.

‘Are you coming too, William?’ You check, since he seemed too smartly dressed just to be picking you up.

‘You don’t mind if I join you?’ He enquires, hesitantly, as he followed Haytham into the back of the carriage anyway.

‘Unmarried and accompanied on a date by two men? How very scandalous.’ You tease them. William smiles softly as he takes his seat but Haytham smirks at you.

‘I’m sure you won’t care much about what is said about us.’ The Grandmaster offers.

‘True.’

‘And I know that you would not mind in the slightest at having more company, that is why I agreed that Bill could join us. The more the merrier.’

‘It’s been years since I have seen the beggar’s opera.’ The bearded Templar enthuses, settling in the seat next to Hayham.

The carriage pulls away at the steady jostling pace as Haytham fixes you with an amused grin. ‘You may need to get used to others tagging along anyway.’

You frown, not understanding his meaning. ‘Why?’

‘Thomas and Shay are very eager to ‘show you a good night out’ as they put it. Even Charles was suggesting that it was only fair that everyone else were to get a date also.’

Well that sounded fun. A night out with each of the Templars, you could only imagine what they would have planned. You will have to look forward to that. Thoroughly.

You lick your lips slowly, savouring the various salacious thoughts currently running through your mind.

‘I entirely agree.’ You muse, to the Templars low chuckles. ‘Yes, it’s only fair.’

 

 

 

 

 

Arriving at the theatre, an attendant gracefully shows you to a private box that had been prepared for the group; it was in an advantageous position overlooking the stage.

Haytham slides your arm within his as you exit the carriage, while William is happy to walk slightly behind, like any good employee or maybe even bodyguard. Despite actually being on a date with two men of them, the avid theatre-going populous might not quite be ready for you walking arm in arm down the aisles with both of them.

The box has been laid out with three heavily padded chairs and you can just about catch a glimpse of other patrons taking their places to the private areas beside you. Peeking over the railing, there are hundreds of people packing into the theatre below you as well.

William stands in front of one chair, holding another for you to sit. He's forcing you to sit between the two of them and you already do not trust his motive, it seems far too staged. 

As you take your seat you have an excellent view of the stage and Haytham closes the curtain separating the box from the corridor, waving away a small boy who was looking to see if you wish to buy a program or if he could bring you anything, for a small tip of course.

'This is the third time I have come to view this production.' The Grandmasters states as he settles into his own chair.

'Is it good?' You ask.

'I have no idea; I have yet to see it in its entirety. ' 

You raise a questioning eyebrow, turning in your chair towards him and he gives you a soft smile out the corner of his mouth.

'The first time; I was very young, and with my father. I was more concerned with the ice cream that he promised to buy me for my birthday after the show.' Haytham’s face softens in reminiscing. He looks almost…sad. Perhaps memories of his childhood were unhappy ones? 'The second time I missed the performance as I was busy searching for an assassin.'

You tsk teasingly at him. 'I can't believe you killed someone at the theatre.'

The Grandmaster turns to look at you, cool grey eyes appraising. 'I never said I killed him.' He sounds slightly suspicious.

'Oh, please. If you were hunting an assassin in the middle of a performance then it wasn't to have a chat with him...or her.'

Haytham's lip quirks in the shadow of a scheming smile. 'I might not have found them.' He offers.

'You, leave a mission unfinished? Hardly.'

'We'll someone seems to think they know me terribly well.' He drawls with a sparkle of challenge in those pale eyes.

'Not that well obviously. You mentioned your father buying you ice-cream, where is your father by the way? Do I get to meet any of your family?'

You immediately realise that you have said completely the wrong thing as you watch Haytham's face fall. His eyes become hard and jaw tense as he turns away to face the stage again, giving you that clean cut striking profile of his.

His voice is cool, distant. 'I'm afraid I have no family for you to meet.'

You glance carefully at William with a sheepish expression, but he shakes his head as if to suggest not to probe further, but Haytham fills the now awkward silence himself.

'My mother died in childbirth with me. I have a half-sister, we do not get on and doubt she would want to hear from me, and my father was…killed.' He stated very matter of factly and with surprisingly little emotion given the topic at hand.

Oh. Well now you had just put your foot in it hadn’t you? You can feel the acid tinge of embarrassment and pity being to bubble in your stomach.

His father was killed? Not just died, or passed away?

'Killed not long after this very show he took me to.' Haytham finished softly, not taking at anyone in particular.

You don't quite know what to say, or do. You awkwardly cover the back of one of his hands with yours and rub soothingly. 'I'm sorry.'

He is very still under your touch, voice softer but still distant. 'It's alright, you were not to know.'

You can’t just leave it at that, not after such a deep confession but you don’t quite know how to probe further without causing more pain or seeming indelicate.

'Can I-can I ask…did they catch the person, the person who killed your father?' You inquire, tentatively.

There is a sudden tenseness to the Grandmasters body, jaw tight and gaze fixed icily on the stage but you get a sense that he’s not really looking at anything.

'Oh yes.' Haytham uttered savagely.  'I caught up with the man responsible.’

You try and steady your breathing, pulse thudding loud in your ear. William stills beside you, you can tell that he’s pretending as if he isn’t there but there’s no way that he cannot hear the conversation.

You can’t look at him; the man that you have had many a pleasant night and day with, you can’t stare at his face full of so much pain or accept the cold, ruthlessness they are all capable of. Turning back to the stage you decide to try and keep your mouth shut on this topic for the rest of the evening, the rest of eternity even, and not push further. You don’t really want to know what he did to the man that ended his father’s life; it was guaranteed to be something that would likely haunt your dreams. Not that you grudge Haytham his revenge for something like that, you just would rather not know the assuredly gory details.

However Haytham doesn’t seem to be letting you out of it that easy. 'He was killed, by Templar assassins.' He confesses and you would have probably stumbled had you not been sitting down.

Did he just say…Templar?

'But...' You turn in your chair to stare at him in disbelief, faced with his profile, his eyes still resolutely on the stage '…Templars killed your father? Wasn't he-'

The Grandmasters lips quirks but he still doesn’t face you. 'My father was an Assassin.' He confessed softly.

You can only hope that your expression doesn't betray your horrified thoughts but you are probably failing miserably at schooling any kind of reaction at the moment. 'How did you come to join the Templars, knowing that they killed your own family?'

'Joined is not quite the word I'd use. Indoctrinated, maybe?'

'How can you, do all this?' You wave your hands in front of you slightly, unable to find the appropriate words for your confusion.

Haytham shrugs still turned away from you, he seems remarkably calm through all of this. 'I believe in the cause. The Templar way is just.'

At your continuing disbelieving stare he eventually relents turning to face you with an unamused snort, his face is determined, eyes steely, a man confident and at ease in his own mind and belief system. Something you will unlikely ever have a hope of understanding or justifying.

'My father died because of the actions of one man, not the order. There are good and worthy Assassins, just as there are cruel and malicious Templars. There is good, and bad, on both sides. Chaos, without order however, is not a way that I chose. My father had his reasons for the life he led I'm sure. The Assassin way is nothing is true everything is permitted. Is this life not true? Do we not owe it to ease people's suffering?  Freedom to do as you please is all very well, but sometimes the price of freedom is just too high.'

You are aware that your mouth is probably hanging open unattractively as your brain scrambles to process all this new information about the man that you had been sharing your bed with for months. After all the wondering and desire to know more about them, things like this…well, you were beginning to wonder if you really did want to know more.

‘I have witnessed some of that price, as has Shay, William, Charles…no there are no regrets.’ He utters softly and you are left wondering if he is trying to reassure himself or you.

Haytham waves an elegant hand as if manually dissipating all the tension built up for the last several painfully-long heartbeats. ‘Anyway, enough about my unhappy family circumstances and unusual childhood, we are here for more pleasant things are we not?’

You can only nod, dumbly, dizzy from the swift change in topics. How did something like that not eat away at you? But Haytham seems as cool and calm as ever you have seen him, even after that particularly stunning confession.

William just shrugs at your disbelieving look and gives you a small pat on the knee in comfort.

As if on cue, to provide you with a distraction to the painful topic of conversation, the lights dim further, the loud murmur of chatter in the theatre dies away and actors stroll out onto the stage to begin the show.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The performance is lively, and entertaining, and you easily get lost in the drama along with the two Templars at your side. Well, you thought that they were busy enjoying the show. It would turn out that they had more subversive activities in mind.

You were completely occupied with an enjoyable loud and enthusiastic chorus to notice Haytham’s hand subtly covering your clothed knee, resting ever so lightly, not doing anything untoward, just letting its presence known.

Watching the Grandmasters striking profile out the corner of your eye; he seems indifferent, making no acknowledgement of his action, his gaze studiously on the stage below.

You shrug it off as an idle gesture as he claps enthusiastically with the rest of the audience after the song, but the hand delicately returns to its position on your leg.

Haytham’s palm resets for several minutes, just until your attention has relaxed and your focus returned to the performance, when all of a sudden his thumb scrapes across the fabric of your dress. The small circling motion of his thumb continues tracing small patterns across your knee, with still no comment or glance from him.

You know, you just know, that he's not doing this in any way innocently and you grin wickedly. So this was going to be his game? Well he will need to try better than that to fluster you. Even though you won’t like to admit that your concentration on the story begins to waiver ever so slightly at the incessant caress of his warm hand.

Chancing a glance up at William reclining relaxed in his chair at your other side, he has obviously caught the other Templar’s action too, and a small smirk creeps across his face, mostly hidden by the full beard.

Well you can expect no help form him then, they are obviously in this little game together. You resolve to hold out as long as possible against the Grandmasters provocation, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he has the upper hand.

You try and shrug it off, focusing on the entertainment on stage below, but your mind keeps wandering to the distracting caress of his hands and what else they could be doing. If there was one thing Haytham was very good with, it was his hands. Damn.

There is the faintest rustle of fabric as William leans over in his seat and unexpectedly, buy in no way unwelcomingly, begins placing gentle kisses down the side of your neck.

Your breath hitches at the touch of his soft lips and soft beard tickling your skin, and you shiver automatically leaning into his touch.

It’s then that you happen to catch the disapproving glare of an elderly lady in the box next to you. Even in the dim light the disgust on her face is evident as she looks down her nose at your little group. Delicately elbowing William, he quickly stops what he is doing to glance up at you, and then follows your stare to the next booth.

Clearing his throat lowly, William straightens in his chair, a red blush creeping across his cheeks. He grins shyly at you, biting his lip, before returning his attention to the stage as you both giggle softly at being caught.

The Grandmaster, however, seems not to notice, or doesn’t care about your audience as his hand stays resolutely on your knee.

You nearly choke as that meandering hand begins to wander up the length of your thigh with purpose.

'Haytham.' You hiss a warning, covering the back of his hand with one of your own, trying desperately to stop its progression ever upwards.

You catch the slightest smirk twitching at corners of his mouth.

‘People can see us!’ You mutter, panic beginning to squirm low in your belly at the prospect of getting caught in such an up-marked and refined place.

The old lady in the box next to you is back glaring in your direction, the sound of your voices disturbing her viewing.

Haytham gives her a sarcastic wave with his free hand and she turns her gaze back to the stage with a loud, disapproving, ‘tut’.

Leaning close Haytham’s lips trail your earlobe, hot breath shivering down your bare neck causing your eyes to flutter closed and goosebumps to shiver down your spine.

‘The barrier is high enough no one can see the bottom half of the box. Everything below the waist should be fine.’ He purrs seductively, and you now know exactly what he is planning.

You shake your head, god you couldn’t possibly do that in public.

The Templar doesn't desist despite your restless shifting in your seat. That large, warm, palm caresses the inside of your thigh offering a gentle squeeze every so often that almost has you jumping out your seat.

The old hag in the next box glares at you with unending disapproval at your mumbling and fidgeting. You try and not look her in the eye, hoping that your actions are going unnoticed from everyone else.

Thankfully the balcony is likely high enough, as Haytham stated, that she probably can't see the increasingly indecent actions of the Grandmaster, but if he isn't careful then it's soon going to be very apparent what you are up to.

Slowly, methodically, Haytham’s nimble fingers gather up the loose fabric of your skirt and you feel the warm air of the theatre caress your bare legs as the hem of your skirt raises inch by inch.

You have a sudden urge to run, and try to stand from your seat, aiming to leave the box and get a little fresh air and quell your rising arousal, but a heavy hand presses firmly against your other thigh as William keeps you resolutely sat in your chair.

‘I’ll get you back for this.’ You threaten lowly, but William only chuckles wickedly. You can’t believe the two of them were going to gang up on you like this.

The touch of skin against bare skin almost draws a deep moan from your throat as Haytham’s palm covers your now exposed knee. He had successfully drawn your skirt up to your thighs, letting his fingers wander the silky bare thigh-flesh now exposed to him.

A satisfied grin spreads across his face as his fingers walk delicately up your inner thigh, offering a caress, or a squeeze, alternating sporadically to draw the best reaction from you.

‘Tsk, tsk, no underskirt, no stockings…I think the ‘lady’ is protesting too much, wouldn’t you say so, Bill?’ Haytham murmured low enough to be barely audible.

Fingers inch just that little bit higher as he talks, and you need to fight back the small, needy, moan desperate to escape your lips. He was dangerously close to discovering just how ‘unladylike’ you had decided to be tonight. You knew full well that the Templar would have something planned for tonight, maybe not quite this, but you had been excited for whatever activities that he had planned and purposely left out any kind of underwear. The dress was all you had on.

‘Most definitely.’ William agreed with a distant voice, as if he was discussing something as mundane as curtain pattern choices. His hand was still firmly gripping your other thigh, keeping you in place and offering its own warm, distracting, presence. His hand, however, was firmly rooted in the one spot and hadn’t wandered. Yet.

‘Bastards.’ You mumble, not wanting to admit you were just as bad as them. Just as desperate, and depraved, and wholly looking forward all kinds of naughty activities they were likely to think up with you tonight.

Your outburst is met with low, masculine, chuckles from the Templars that lodge seductively between your legs just as their wandering hands did. Your arousal was increasing, despite your protest, pulse hammering, you could feel dampness begin to stick the top of your thighs.

Haytham resumes his progress of caressing your leg with long, gentle, strokes from your knee upwards. His hands feel wonderful, slightly calloused fingers from years of sword practice teasing and tormenting you with every swipe and circle.

Leaning back in your chair, the beggars opera and what is going on with the story is long forgotten, your mind foggy, hazy with growing arousal and the need to have more. Or have them stop. You are not sure which but you need one of them right now.

You can feel your heart thudding in your chest, pulse speeding as your muscles begging to twitch with excitement, eagerly anticipating the Grandmaster’s next move.

Biting your lip hard, you fight back whimpers from escaping as he slowly, steadily, inches his palm up between your legs, pushing them open just a little wider with surprising strength given that he’s only using one hand. Clever fingers reach out near the junction of your thighs, swiping delicately through the now, virtually, sopping folds of your pussy and you practically jump put your chair had they not both been holding you down.

Haytham’s breath hitches, possibly even higher than yours as his exploring fingers soon realise that you hadn’t any underwear on.

He recovers remarkably well, inching a fraction higher, delving between your legs with the confidence of a man that’s been there before and knows just how to bring you the most pleasure.

‘No underwear? Shameful.’ Haytham declares throatily, and you can hear the soft chuckle of William in agreement, his hand still carefully massaging your other thigh.

‘Are you even wearing any?’ Your challenging tone is somewhat ruined by the soft gasp escaping your lips when Haytham’s nimble index finger begins to slowly circle your clit with eagerness.

Despite his determination to torment you, you are happy to hear that his own voice cracks due to his own arousal. ‘You might get to find out later. If you’re good.’

Sagging in your chair, you surrender yourself to the Templar’s touch, there’s no point in trying to fight him, he’ll get what he wants in the end, and honestly, he was so very good that you couldn’t care less about being caught anymore. All you needed was more, just a little harder, a little deeper, a little faster.

You can’t help the slight movement of your hips back and forth, bucking against the warm solidness of his hand, encouraging his fingers deeper as he teases your peaking clit with firm strokes.

Breathing deeply through your nose, you bite back the string of expletives and begging moans that you were desperate to shout out, aware that your actions were likely still being surveyed by the busybodies next to you. Your own hands wander to the soft cloth covering Haytham and William’s thighs, knuckles shaking from your tight grip on their clothing as you fist handfuls of their breeches, looking desperately for something to anchor you to your own body.

You are not even watching the stage anymore, head thrown back against the back of the chair, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut, your head filled with the laughter and music of the play still ongoing below but your body singing with tension from the Grandmasters exquisite touch.

Your nails are practically tearing at their clothed thighs, desperately scrambling for some kind of purchase on something as you inch ever closer to your own orgasm. You can feel it, bubbling up from deep between with each incessant flick of Haytham's fingers against your clit, your thighs shaking in effort of trying to remain so bodily still and keeping your screams to yourself.

The rippling waves of pleasure throughout your body are almost painful as all the air is forced from your lungs with a loud whoosh and you utter an unfortunately vociferous ‘fuck!’

At your outburst there are a few angry huffs and mutterings from some other theatre goers surrounding you and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, wondering if they knew what had just happened. Thankfully they all return their attention to the stage as another loud musical numbers begins and you assume that Haytham was correct in observing their inability to see what was going on below the waist.

The Grandmaster watches you with that smug smirk of his, but you don’t even have the energy to be mad with him after something like that. Your nerve endings tingle from head to toe and your cunt is still practically quivering in pleasure.

‘Was that good?’ He all but purrs at you, extracting his fingers from your stimulated, swollen pussy with a low moan of regret from you, and licks his fingers.

‘You bloody know it was.’ You huff at him, feeling a small trickle of sweat run down your spine. Your pulse was still beating rapidly between your legs and every muscle aches when you shift in your seat.

‘Well, if you would like more, Bill’s in a perfect position to…’

You had almost forgotten William’s hand residing firmly against your other thigh, too lost in the direct touch of Haytham.

‘Oh god, please no!’ You almost beg. You are not sure you would survive that again. At this moment you could happily slide right off your seat to the floor and lie there in blissful orgasmic afterglow, play and the public be damned.

The Templars chuckle, but the last laugh will be with you if they need to practically carry you out of here, as right now you can’t feel your toes and your thighs have the consistency of jelly.

Your chest was still heaving, thighs squeezed tight shut in aftermath, you were not really focusing on anything other than getting your body under some semblance of control again when suddenly Haytham stood from his seat.

It takes you a moment to focus your gaze up at him from the hazy afterglow of your particularly amazing orgasm.

'Come with me.' He practically growled at you, but you continue staring at him in confusion.

'It's not finished.' You protest, nodding towards the stage where a number of actors were gesticulating animatedly.

'I do not care.' He stated plainly.

'We can't leave now.' You hiss under your breath, aware of the stares from some people in neighbouring booths. You had already drawn too much unwanted attention for tonight.

Tall and commanding, Haytham was drawing a lot more attention towards your little group. Perhaps it was his appearance and naturally authoritative demeanour, or perhaps because it was also painfully obvious that he was aroused. The hard line of his erection evidently trying to strain free of its confines and tenting the front of his breeches.

The Grandmaster bends over you, warm breath tickling your cheek. His voice was deadly serious as he whispered in your ear.

‘If you do not come with me right now I will bend you over the railing right here until your moans of pleasure drone out the entire performance, and I don't care who watches what I'm doing.'

He smirks at you, humour warming his expression, but the look in those intense eyes states plainly that if you push him he will have no problem following through on his threat.

As much as the thought sends a small, evil, thrill of pleasure through you, you have no desire to see the three of you arrested for indecency. 

Haytham straightens again and offers you his hand. You take it after a moments pause, slipping your palm into his larger warmer one, grateful for the his steady grip helping to get you to your feet, as your legs still feeling decidedly shaky.

You glance at William in passing, but he stays in his own seat, offering you a mischievous wink as you leave.

Haytham keeps close to you, pressed lightly against your back, one hand guiding you carefully out of the box while the other parts the heavy red velvet curtain.

As you leave you catch the glares of the old woman next to you and offer a small sarcastic wave and smile as Haytham had done earlier. Her scowl only deepens.

Pushing through the curtain, Haytham waves away the usher- a small boy hovering there in case patrons wish anything such as food or drink- with a few coins.

'Disappear for a while.' He commands briskly, and the boy takes his prize and flees quickly.

The Templar wastes no time with niceties, pinning you face first against the wall where his mouth can get to work attacking all the little sensitive spots on your neck. His larger body engulfs yours, chest pressed tightly against your back, hips grinding against you. 

You pant and melt under his expert touch as Haytham buries his substantial aquiline nose behind your ear and trails love bites across every bare patch of skin he can reach.

Your stomach quivers in a mixture of arousal and trepidation. Just beyond the curtain is the theatre packed full of people happily watching the show, while only a few feet away from the small box-like antechamber of the booth is the main corridor where just anyone could walk by and catch you. 

'Haytham!' You whine as his hands grip your waist tightly, grinding his hips against your backside. 'We could be caught.'

'That's part of the fun.' He purrs in your ear, nimble fingers reaching down to begin gathering up your skirt.

Cool air caresses your bare, sensitive, skin as Haytham collects the long hem up to your waist, forcing a low moan from your lips as you become exposed.

'I wasn't the one that 'forgot' underwear.' He teases, warm palms cupping your exposed backside and offering a gentle squeeze.

He was entirely correct. You had hoped something like this would happen. You press your cheek against the cool wall and let him direct you as needed. The rough cloth of his breaches scratches your skin as he ruts against you, the hard press of his erection digging the cloth between your legs with every slow, deliberate, rotation of his hips.

Craning your neck over your shoulder, you search eagerly for a kiss, Haytham eagerly acquiesces, lips fevered against yours, his tongue slipping between your teeth to plunger your mouth with enthusiastic skill.

You heard the frantic rustle of fabric as he fumbles behind you, unbuttoning his breeches just enough to free his straining erection.

You let out a sharp gasp of want as the impossibly hot spear of his cock presses firmly against your bare skin. You buck against him, writhing eagerly, trapped by the wall and the enticing, solid masculinity of his body.

Bracing your palms against the wall you bend slightly, sticking your backside out as an offering to him which he happily accepts.

Haytham teases you. Hands tight against your hips, he draws the length of his cock through the channel of wetness that he created earlier, the head of his cock nuzzling against your clit with every stroke.

You can only wiggle your hips for more, pleading silently for him to finish his task.

Your heart thuds in your chest as a loud chorus of music is taken up behind the curtain. You can hear delicate coughs of people, the faint rusting of fabric as those people shift in their seats. You are both so very close to being caught it’s exciting and terrifying.

Haytham suddenly spins you away from the wall to face him with an effortless show of strength, and you notice that his hat has fluttered to the floor, greying hair escaping its ribbon. His eyes are wide, dilated with desire, and almost scarily luminescent in the dim gas light of the theatre.

He pressed himself against you with urgency, his broad chest flush against your breasts as his lips seek yours for a rough, frenzied kiss.

Your hands fumble against his, helping, or perhaps hindering, the progress of lifting the fallen hem of your dress enough again. Hooking a leg around his thigh you draw him closer, hips bumping against yours, thighs pressing your legs open for him. 

With a free hand, the Templar stealthily positions his cock at your entrance before his hips slowly sink all that hard wonderful length inside of you. He quickly covers your mouth with his other hand, swiftly stifling your loud groan of pleasure at being so wonderfully full of him. His lips trail your jaw, wandering down the exposed slope of your neck to the tightly bodiced swell of your cleavage. 

You whimper against his hand, gasping heavily through your nose, inhaling the deep, intoxicating, manly smell of his skin.

His hips stutter, rhythm desperate and uncoordinated, bucking widely against you while you cling desperately to the rough cloth of his jacket. The wall is hard against your back, solid, but yet nothing like the warm solidness of the Grandmaster in front of you.

Haytham’s clothing bites at your exposed skin, rubbing your thighs as you cling to him. You can hear him chuckle deeply in your ear as you mumble incoherently against his hand but he wisely keeps you gagged because you are quite sure the whole theatre would hear your cries of pleasure as he drives you to orgasm with each tempestuous thrust of his hips.

Your mumbled 'please mores' are lost among strong fingers, but he shows no sign of relenting, much to your pleasure.

A tight coil of bubbling energy, threatening to explode, seems to lodge low in your abdomen, twisting all the tighter with each thrust of the Grandmaster’s hips and another scrape of your clit against his public bone. As you cum, orgasm rippling up from deep between your legs to wash over your entire body, every muscle twitches in release of that energy.

You are grateful for the solid wall behind you holding you up as you sag against it, panting heavily and happily exhausted.

Haytham doesn't take long to finish either, but you still feel the smirk of his satisfaction against your neck when you come apart on him first. He slips his hand from your mouth, satisfied that your abating screams of pleasure are now over, to grip your hips tightly pulling you closer to him onto his waiting cock with more force.

'I still think doing this on the stage would have been something to witness.' He pants slyly in your ear, and it leaves you giggling at the thought as he spends himself within you with a few last, hip jerking thrusts.

You can feel the slightest quiver in his body as he stills, pressing tightly against you.

Haytham offers a slow, languorous kiss, taking his time to claim every inch of your mouth before he pulls away, his eyes hooded and heavy, and hair tangled from your tryst. His lips are pink and raw from kissing you but you are still blissfully hazy, giggling in the ecstasy of it all.

He places his forehead against yours while you wait several heartbeats for your pulse to return to normal and your breathing to slow.

Reluctantly, after what feels like hours in his arms, the Grandmaster steps back, taking the warm, earthy smell of his body away and leaving you leaning against the wall for support, your post orgasm legs still feel like jelly and you would happily sink to the floor to sit down.

Your dress slides back onto place, covering your very exposed nether regions. Haytham however, is still gloriously exposed as he moves away, his coat askew, breeches unfastened and his softening cock, glistening wet from your arousal still on display framed by the light cloth of those trousers. He definitely looks like a sin walking, fixing you with a lazy smirk and devilishly satisfied look.

Smug bastard.  But it was always wonderful with him.

He takes a few moments to rearrange himself, tucking himself away into his trousers and smoothing back his hair into a neat ponytail once more.

As presentable as he is going to be, but with an air of still being freshly fucked he grabs your hand, tugging you away from the wall to wrap you in his arms once more and kiss you.

‘Shall we go back in?' He asks after a moment, but still not willing to release you from his embrace.

‘You think anyone in there doesn't know what we were just up to?' You ask incredulously. No matter how hard he tried to keep you quiet you were pretty sure a thin curtain wasn't exactly covering up your activities.

Haytham shrugs, mouth twisted in a small smile. 'Perhaps, perhaps not.'

'I think we better get out of here before we get thrown out.'

The heavy curtain of the box parts and you startle, forgetting for a brief moment that it was only William in there.

There bearded Templar steps out the box close to you, small smirk in place.

‘Well I definitely heard you.’ He says amusedly. ‘We may think about leaving because I can guarantee it was not just me.’

'The Grandmaster of the colonial Templar order arrested for lewd conduct in Boston...what would you say to your superiors?' You tease Haytham.

‘You may have a point.' He mutters distractedly, glancing down the corridor behind you. A smartly dressed man was squinting in your direction from further down the corridor, a lady dressed severely head to toe in black- the old hag from the booth beside you-was in animated conversation with him, pointing exaggeratedly and angrily in your general direction.

You turn to Haytham giving him a wide eyed look of panic, but you suddenly can't help the small laugh escaping your lips. He joins you.

'Time to go.' He agrees keenly, as does William.

Taking your arm, Haytham steers the pair of you swiftly down the various halls and stairways of the theatre to reach the cool, fresh, night air before the usher had a chance to head in your direction. William quickly follows behind, a deep chuckle emanating in a low rumble from his chest.

You feel like naughty children behind caught doing something inappropriate as you laugh and practically run and way from the authorities, quickly jumping into a carriage to take the three of you home to continue the fun there.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kinky date with Charles Lee, well, not just Charles, it turns out a whole bunch of Templars really want to join in too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos. This chapter was running on a bit so I have split it up and there will be more to come later. This might continue on another chapter, maybe two, depending on how the various scenes play out in my fantasies ;-) The new boys will probably just be a one off for fun purposes, there too may men going around as it is lol 
> 
> Spoilers for sex with Shay, Charles, Haytham, Pitcairn, and another mystery man that you can fill in with your own personal fantasy...im going with Benjamin church, just for variety. Don't worry, our other usual Templar boy band have still to make an upcoming appearance.

 

It had been an exceedingly long and weary day.

Kicking off your shoes in the hallway as you arrive home, and stripping away heavy layers of clothing on route upstairs, was the first wonderfully freeing task that had you almost sighing in pleasure. You were already dreaming of a nice warm bath and curling up on the couch with food, and maybe a good book.

Moving automatically through your bedroom, something out of place catches your eye causing you to pause mid-stride.

On your bedside table sits a small oblong-shaped box, a folded cream-coloured scrap of parchment tucked underneath. A fleeting moment of unease sinks in your stomach as you slowly approach the foreign object. It clearly didn't belong to you, and you had not left such an item there this morning.

Carefully picking up the items you take a deep breath and soon calm, thinking of all the simple, mundane possibilities. At least five Templars had access to your home; it was likely one of them leaving a gift.

Opening the box first, your confusion is only intensified as you delicately pull out a long thin sash of black silky fabric. It's so soft and luxurious under your fingertips, whispering beautifully against your skin. Upending the box to check nothing else lurked inside, a slightly-rusty iron key tumbles into your outstretched palm.

You turn the key over between your fingers, puzzled at the connection between the two items. Turning your attention to the accompanying letter, you hope that _it_ will make sense of the contents.

The note is short, printed in black ink in a bold, spiked, male hand;

 

_I am claiming my date._

_Come to the Green Dragon at 8pm. The key opens room 4. Undress, put on the blindfold, and await my instruction._

_C._

 

Well now.

Reading the, typically curt, note twice over you smirk at Mr Lee's brash but oh-so-confident manner.

Damn that man, just a few words and already a pleasant little squirm of arousal is beginning to flutter through your belly. Who could resist such a tempting offer? Certainly not you.

Awaiting Charles in a public place, nude and blindfolded is the stuff of erotic fantasies, usually best played out in your own mind and bedroom, nowhere else. It sounded incredibly naughty, and you were willing to bet any kind of wager that he would have something most interesting planned.

Suddenly, you didn't feel _quite_ so tired anymore, and you were going to need to rush a little to get ready in time.

You had been tempted, only slightly, by the prospect of arriving later than instructed, just to see what Charles would do to you for such insubordination; it was likely to be worth it, but you just couldn’t contain your excitement in finding out what he had instore and arrive promptly at the Inn.

 

 

The Green Dragon is packed with patrons when you arrive, groups of men and women drinking, dancing, gambling; all eager to enjoy themselves. A few fiddles play a loud and merry time in the corner, and groups of soldiers sway past you with armfuls of tankards.

At a stool at the bar you run into Thomas Hickey, and you have a suspicious feeling that it is by no coincidence as the Templar doesn't seem very surprised to see you. As you press him for more details of what is going on he keeps stubbornly tight lipped; not like Thomas at all, and gives you a mischievous wink, murmuring 'see ya later, love' as he hops off his stool and heads deeper into the crowds and out of view.

Wondering what in earth they are playing at, you get yourself a drink and carefully thread through the crowds, making your way upstairs in search of room 4, eagerly grasping your little box complete with key and blindfold securely.

Your pulse being to quicken as you climb the stairs, legs feeling suddenly unsteady as anticipation and nervousness coast through your body. It’s not your first time with these men, but something feels different.

At a large table on the upper floor you find Haytham and William playing cards as if it was their regular poker night, drink and money strewn across the table as they laugh and chat together.

Catching your eye the Grandmaster smirks at you as you reach the top landing, cool grey eyes following your every move like a predator stalking its prey. Even William’s, usually warm and jovial, smile is looking distinctly more hungry than usual.

You find yourself biting your lip as you slowly approach them, heat creeping up your neck to flush your cheeks and to the very tips of your ears. Despite all the pleasantly wonderful scenarios you had found yourself in, the unrestricted lust in their looks still leaves your mouth dry and lower parts of your anatomy soaking wet. The Templars are looking at you like they have already undressed you and bent you over the table, and you are half expecting one of them to make a grab for you as you get closer.

'Evening, lass.' William greets you with a bright smile, but his voice is low and intimate, dark blue eyes dancing down your body suggestively.

'I can't believe you are having a poker night and I wasn't invited.' You tease them with a mock pout, but unfortunately you think it comes out sounding far too breathy.

'We were just passing some time while we wait for the entertainment.' Haytham purrs, gaze darting between you and William.

The two men share a smirk and it sets you on edge. They were all up to something, and while it was generally likely to be very pleasant for you there was still some small part of your brain that panicked.

'Do you not have somewhere to be?' Haytham continued nonchalantly, turning over the deck of cards in those long, distracting fingers, as if he didn't already know _exactly_ where you were supposed to be.

Nodding, and clutching your box to your chest, you leave them to their game, or whatever plotting they were doing and wander down the hall to your room, feeling the weight of their gaze on your back.

Room number four was a little hard to find, tucked away at the end of a long, twisting corridor and at the back of the inn overlooking a small courtyard.

Inside the room, the noise and music from below is distinctly muffled. Turning the rusty key, you lock the door behind you and place it on the table. You assume Charles would have another to let himself in. Well, you hope that it’s unlikely he would expect you to get naked and blindfolded in a room where just anyone could walk in.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, trying desperately to quell your growing excitement, you strip off your clothing, laying it carefully on the dresser. The room is clearly one of the nicer in the tavern; a large, sturdy, four-poster bed dominated the room, all heavy quilted fabric and dark oak. A small round table and a few chair, as well as wardrobe and dresser, make up the rest of the furniture.

You remove the sash carefully from its box, covering your eyes with the silky fabric and securely tie it behind your head, smoothing it down across your fluttering eyelids. The looped threaded ends hang down your neck to curl against your shoulder, ticking your bare skin.

Suddenly blind, your pulse begins to speed in anxious anticipation. How long would Charles be? Each noise from outside the room seems infinitely magnified now that you cannot see, and you find yourself fidgeting. Did you stand in the middle of the room? Sit on the chair?

After lengthy indecision, you eventually settle for carefully shuffling to the bed and easing back against the pillows. The bedspread was soft under your palms, fingertips caressing the embroidered pattern idly as you take a few deep breaths and try to quell some of the growing arousal stirring in your body.

You contemplated touching yourself while you wait for the Templar, wondering if Charles would thoroughly enjoy catching you in the act, or dish out one of his glorious punishments for finding you wet and finished without his input. 

Deciding it would be better just to wait; it’s not before long that you hear the distinct click of metal against metal as a key is inserted into the lock. The sudden noise draws your attention and you automatically glance at the doorway, giggling when you realise there was really no point as you couldn’t see a thing. It was going to be habit; trying to see things, one that you are sure Charles will enjoy tormenting you out of.

The bedroom door opens with a soft creak and a draught of cool air filters through the room, caressing your nakedness and sending goosebumps shivering up your arms and spine.

Wetting your lips, you try and control your breathing to a barely repressed pant, squirming against the bed at the sensation and thought of Charles standing there observing you keenly, naked on the bed.

The closes firmly but you do not hear the click of a lock.

'Charles?' You enquire, voice uncertain. What if it wasn’t him? The thought thrills and terrifies you.

'Hmmm.' He mumbles affirmation, confirming it was indeed the arrogant Templar you loved.

His shoes click softly against the wooden floor as he draws closer to the bed and you swear that your heart beats faster with each step, anticipating...something.

You can smell him before the warmth of his body envelops you, the faint caress of sandalwood and bergamot, as the bed dips under his weight and the solidness of his body pressed against you.

Charles fingers delicately caress over the black silk blindfold, your eyelids fluttering gently under the fabric as he nestles between your legs, moulding his body against yours.

You automatically curl around him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and shifting against the solidness of him.

Lee’s breath tickles your lips as he hovers just inches above you, not quite closing the gap to kiss you, to give you what you want. Instead he makes you work for it.

With a small moan of need, you inch upwards, straining to meet his warm, waiting, lips and there no hesitation this time in his arrogantly passionate response.

With a low growl rumbling from his chest, Charles deepens your kiss, tongue sneaking into your mouth to caress yours as he runs large palms down your arms, eventually lacing his fingers in yours and pinning your arms to the bed above your head. With a small excited groan he abandons your mouth, nibbling along your jawline and down your neck with determined purpose.

Panting under him you wiggle in his embrace, relishing the firm line of his body snuggly pressed against yours and the wonderful assault of his lips. You feel Charles smirk against your skin at every small gasp of pleasure from you.

'You look wonderful like this.' He purrs between kisses. 'All that's missing is some restraints....and a gag.' He teases.

You will happily take anything at the moment, desperate for something to ease the growing pressure of arousal building in your body. Your nipples scrape across the rough fabric of his coat, and the cold press of polished buttons against your bare skin is perfectly contrasted by the warmth of his hands and mouth.

Charles slips a thigh between your legs, allowing you to buck and rut against him, but you’re your only tormenting yourself further, driving yourself to distraction as your body begs and strains increasingly for more.

You can’t see anything, all your senses are channelled into touch, _feeling_ , hands, mouth, skin against skin, it’s all wonderful and foreign thanks to your inability to use one of your most primary senses.

'Feel free.' You encourage as his teeth sink delicately into the soft skin at your neck. You would be totally fine with him trusting you up and hanging you from the god dammed ceiling if it was going to get you an orgasm.

He pulls away suddenly, and you all but whimper at the loss of contact, but thankfully the Templar doesn't go far, retreating mere inches to curl up on his side beside your body, while you remain lying sprawled on your back.  

Charles fingers begin idly stroking back and forth across your tummy in lazy patterns, leaving a shivering trail of pleasure in their wake and your body straining and arching into his touch, desperate for more.

'I have a proposal.' He says carefully, offering a few more of those tantalising kisses, and your ears prick up, body singing with tension. It's not like Mr Lee to sound so...unconfident.

'I have friends that would be interested in joining you.' He continues; thumb circling your areola until your nipple peaks under his touch.

'I spotted them outside.' You laugh as his mouth follows the pattern of his fingers, moustache tickling the sensitive skin of your breasts.

Charles voice is low, husky, as he trails butterfly kisses across your collar and up your throat. 'Not just them.'

Confused, a small frown creases your brow. Haytham and William and Thomas were all here. You spotted them outside in the Tavern. You were just missing Shay to join you and the set was complete.

The calloused pad of Charles’ thumb caresses your bottom lip and you automatically suck in the offending digit, tasting the salty tang of his skin and he chuckles, dragging your mouth towards him for another deep, probing, kiss.

When he’s finished exploring your mouth with his tongue he retreats back to idly caressing your nakedness, feather light touch infinitely teasing.

'That's not _all_ that I had in mind.' He whispers, with the slightest excitement creeping into his voice. You are now getting to the reason for you being here. Trust Charles that it wouldn’t be something quite as tame as simply having you blindfolded.

'Have you ever had any fantasies of a stranger taking you by surprise, in a dark alley maybe, anonymously, roughly?'

Licking your lips, you wiggle against his maddeningly conservative caress.

'You seem to have fulfilled that desire for me last time.' You remind him, trying to inch closer to his body. Charles, pretending to be someone else and dressing up in red coat uniform taking you as he pleased was one of the most amazing things that you had ever experienced. You would be very happy with more of that.

His hand trails down to your inner thigh, caressing a meandering pattern from knee to just short of your pussy and you can’t help a small groan escape your barely parted lips.

'This time we could do it right?' He offers, lips tracing the shell of your ear.

Oh, now you were _fantastically_ curious, body strung out and needing some sort of stimulation. 'How do you mean?’ You ask, trying not to sound _too_ eager, you want to make him work just a little bit as well.

'You are here, naked, blindfolded. Anyone could come through that door, _kiss_ you, _touch_ you… _coax_ you to orgasm.'

That did sound…interesting. It could be Thomas, or Haytham walking through that door. You wouldn’t be able to see them. However it’s highly likely that you could easily guess who they were. You had shared their beds for months now and you could easily tell it was Charles from the smell and taste of him before he even open his mouth.

‘You submit to our pleasure, our instruction. If you guess correctly who’s fucking you, you get a prize.’ He teases.

You smirk at him and ask cheekily, ‘What’s my prize?’

Charles low chuckle is followed by a tantalisingly arrogant kiss. ‘That’s my decision.’

‘And what will you be doing?’

‘Watching.’ He murmured darkly and your breath hitches slightly at the unrestrained desire in his voice. God you were getting wet at just the thought of Charles getting off watching you with the other Templars.

‘I’ll be there to make sure you are ok, and should anyone come up…less than gentlemanly then I’ll be making sure you get your pleasure as well.’ He paused, lips tracing your earlobe. ‘I’m curious how many times you can be made to cum before you _beg_ us to stop.’

Now _that_ thought sent a shiver all the way down your spine and your pulse racing. Did you want to spend an evening submitting to these Templars and all the erotic scenarios their overactive, and talented, minds could come up with, _and_ getting to cum until you practically passed out?

Hell, yes.

‘However, it’s not just them.’ Charles confessed uneasily, obviously unsure of your impending reaction.

‘What?’ What did he mean it wasn’t just them? There was more to his little date fantasy than he was letting on.

‘It’s not just Haytham and the like. There’s…a few others. Others who you have never been with, they are…eager to provide you with their…services.’

Oh. My. So when he said _strangers_ , Charles really did mean strangers, and hadn’t just meant pretend like it was with him last time. These were actual people you had never slept with, shared a bed with, and had any sort of relationship with. That put a different spin on what he was proposing. You weren’t quite sure how to feel about that. Never in your wildest imagination would you have predicted this experience.

‘Who are they?’ You ask, uncertainly of having multiple anonymous sexual encounters.

‘I guarantee you know them, you have just never slept with some of them.’

‘Right.’

Silence stretched between you. You were not sure whether your game had gotten too far too quickly. It was ok the prospect of Shay or Thomas, but what if it was someone you didn’t like? You had met many Templars. It really could be _anyone_.

‘This is your decision.’ Charles insisted. ‘You will never be left alone with anyone that you do not know. If you are unhappy, at any point, you tell me and we will stop.’

You trusted Charles to ensure that you did not come to any harm. He might be an arrogant arse at times, who thoroughly enjoyed winding you up, but when it came to sex he had always ensured that you were happy with what he was doing to you, but…but _anonymous_ sex. With a complete stranger?

Taking a deep breath you mull over your possibilities. Charles, for his part, says nothing further, neither coaxing nor encouraging you, letting you come to your own decision.

After what felt like an age you eventually take the plunge and nodded.

The Templar’s hands resumed their gentle, seductive, caress now that you had made your decision to carry on.

‘You’re sure?’ He checked and you heard a distinctly loud swallow.

‘Yes.’ You tried to murmur with confidence, fighting back any reservations. This could be a lot of fun.

‘Remember we can stop at any time.’ He insisted with a reassuring, soothing, kiss.

The bed dipped slightly as Charles rolled off, and you could hear the click of his shoes against the wooden floor while he moved about the room.

The noises were foreign and you find yourself sitting up on the bed as if you could actually see what he was up to.

‘What _are_ you going?’ You eventually give in and ask.

‘I’m just getting a few things. I’ll be…warming you up for your encounters.’

You could practically _hear_ the man’s salacious grin from across the room.

Within a few moments the Templar was back on the bed beside you, the rustle of fabric pricking your senses. This damned blindfold! You found yourself straining to hear the smallest sounds, trying to identify what was coming next.

‘Roll over.’ The Templar practically purred in your ear, large, warm hands helping you to turn onto your stomach.

Charles took a long, slow time massaging out all your muscles, large, warm hands confidently kneading your shoulders, back, calves, every possible inch of skin... it was perhaps the gentlest he had ever been with you, you should have known then that it was simply build up to something more.

No sooner had you relaxed into a pliable pulp thanks to his massage than he began the rather long and amazingly intricate process of tying you up. This wasn’t the usual quick knots or a handy belt that he used to pin you where he wanted during frenzied couplings.

Charles took his time covering you in a complex pattern of surprisingly-soft rope. First securing your arms behind your back, loops were soon threading around your neck, breasts and waist, with intricate little knots trailing down your front and spine. Carefully placing you on your back, nestled comfortably against piles of pillows, Charles hitches your knees up, pushing your heels as far towards your backside as he could before tying your legs into that position.

It left you immobile, legs open wide and parted. You were so, so, _exposed_. By the time he was finished with you, you were breathing shallowly, skin hyper sensitive to ever brief caress and desperately in need of some form of intimate touch, as he had purposely stayed away from any sort of main erogenous zones.

‘Charles.’ You practically whined at him, but his answer was nothing more than an intense kiss.

Once he was happy with your restraints he murmured ‘perfect’ before slipping back onto the bed beside you.

‘Comfortable?’ He baited, fingertips trailing the elaborate pattern of rope across your body.

‘Not in the slightest.’ You smirked at him. Well, you couldn’t move a muscle, not even an inch on your own.

His answer was to tug the rope, just _slightly_.

‘Oh!!’ You couldn’t help gasping at the sensation, squirming on top of the bed. The rope gently bit into your skin and tugged between your legs, parting the outer lips of your pussy and exposing your sensitive skin to the cooler air in the room. Your clit was practically standing to attention.

This was slow, delicious, _torture_. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him, and could hardly wiggle your body into just a fraction of a more favourable position without his help.

Charles offered kisses to placate you, mouth trailing little love bites down your neck and across your collar, but you needed _more_., but his hands wandered as they pleased, sometimes offering a leisurely caress of your breast, other times a firm pinch of your peaking nipple.

You groaned an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ hoping that was the end of his teasing when a large, warm, male palm eventually cupped your groin, rubbing in deliberately measured circles. The tips of his fingers parted your folds to briefly circle your clit, dipping lower to gather the moisture flooding you and spreading it across the surface until the little bud was slippery and quivering under his touch, but he resolutely held back the pressure or speed needed to cum.

‘Just one more thing, then you’ll get what you are needing.’ He promised ominously against your begs for release.

Unable to see, unable to move, you lay listening to his actions as the faint rustle of fabric alerted you to him rummaging for something.

Suddenly there was the faintest waft of vanilla, just the barest hint of the fragrance, before the slight squelching sound of something wet.

Charles placed one hand firmly on your stomach, holding you in place, the other dipped lower, sending a wave of fresh moaning from low in your throat. You wiggled on the bed as a slicked, oiled, finger pressed gently at your backside and began methodically massaging the tight ring of muscle at your arse.

You whimpered at the sensation as Charles spread the lubricant over your skin, coating the area liberally until you were panting and clenching against his touch, nerve endings tingling in sensation.

‘Relax.’ The Templar insisted, fingertip just _daring_ to penetration you.

He coated his finger again and pushed forwards, further, deeper, until his index finger was carefully moving back and forth inside of you. A second digit soon followed, stretching you just that little bit more, coating your inner muscles with the fragrant, slick liquid until you were soft and pliable and mewing for more.

When he was satisfied your moans of pleasure indicated that you were ready, Charles moved a little faster, fingers working rhythmically in and out of your body.

‘One more.’ He teased, voice rough with his own arousal, leaving you groaning and shaking under him by the time he wormed a third, long, lubricated, digit into your ass. With his other free hand he began rubbing your clit gently with the pad of his thumb.

The muscles in your legs and arms flexed and strained automatically, but you couldn’t move, securely tied with his expert rope work and left to lie and suffer the unending cycle of stimulation.

A soft groan of disappointment sighed from your lips when he carefully removed his fingers from your backside. You had been enjoying it, just getting used to the foreign feeling of being penetrated there, and the wonderfully building sensations.

Thankfully, Charles kept up the stimulation on your clit, edging you ever closer to orgasm, when suddenly something much bigger than his fingers pressed unexpectedly against you. Something heavy and solid, but incredibly smooth, nudged against your ass and you involuntary tightened in reflex.

You try not to sound too panicked when you ask, ‘what, is that?’

‘Relax.’ He warned with a commanding tone, circling your entrance with the object.

Leaning over your prone body, Charles mouth sought yours for a deep, probing, kiss.

‘I don’t want anyone fucking you here unless they are willing to do it right and not hurt you. So let’s…plug up this little hole, for now.’ He purred as he continued to rim you with whatever toy he had brought.

With that he gradually inched the object inside of you. It was fairly narrow, phallus-shaped, from what you could tell, but it had strange deep grooves carved into its length. It might have been metal, or perhaps glass, you were not sure. Charles had made sure it was well lubricated, and it felt smaller in size than the cocks of all of the Templars you had been with, so wasn’t too much of a challenge. The smooth object was warming up to your body temperature nicely.

He slowly inched it inside of you and your inner muscles fluttered experimentally around the foreign object. The amazingly wonderful feeling of his fingers against your clit was distracting you from everything else he was doing. The toy seemed to widen towards the base, and with a last firm push it slipped inside and your body closed around it, leaving a small base protruding out and nestled against your cheeks.

You were panting and sweating by the time he was done, muscles taught and shaking in stimulation.

Charles pushed his advantage, fingers thrumming your clit with renewed vigour. You could feel your muscles quiver, orgasm approaching like a wave surging towards the shore line.

Your low groans of climax were met with a frustrating desire to move, to shake your arms and legs as they spasmed within their tight bonds but you had to make do with releasing all the tension through your throat, panting and supplicating his name.

Charles fingers were positively dripping by the time he eased them from your over stimulated, swollen folds and you could just make out his heavier breathing, letting you know that he was enjoying himself immensely in tormenting you.

Easing your head up, the Templar offered you a drink; it was sweet and fruity, before he slipped off the bed leaving you still tied and immobile.

‘Time for some fun.’ He exclaimed eagerly, and you wondered what would happen now.

The bedroom door opened and you could hear low, whispered voices, and even lower masculine chuckles. It set your pulse racing in anticipation as you craned your neck towards the source of the noise.

Straining against your bonds, you found that you were quite securely tied. There was no way to escape from them unless Charles untied you, and after all the careful work to get you into this position, you doubt that it would be happening anytime soon.

Each move of your head sent the loose tails of your blindfold ticking against your bare skin as you strained to hear the voices, trying to work out who it was and what they were saying.

You let out an undignified squeal of surprise as two warm palms grabbed you around the waist firmly and dragged you bodily down the bed until your backside was practically hanging off of it. You hadn’t expected such a quick, overwhelming assault.

Wetting your lips, you were soon gasping, biting down hard on your bottom lip and sincerely thankful for Charles particularly amazing foreplay as someone positioned his cock at your entrance and slid into you with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Standing at the foot of the bed, this mystery lover set a rough, bruising, pace, thrusting deeply and using his leverage and firm grip on your body to drag you down to meet his waiting cock.

The soft cloth of his breeches rubbed your thighs, wisps of pubic hair tickling against you as your body bounced against his. All you could hear were soft little rumbling grunts from low in his throat and the slap of his body against yours. There was nothing you could do to help or hinder, bound and secure and unable to even see who it was that was taking such liberties.

There was no foreplay, no gentle stimulation or easing into it. This, this was fucking. You were his toy, nothing but a means to his pleasure as he thrust so deeply inside of you and you were loving every unfortunately-brief minute of it. A hand wandered across your breasts for a few selfish caresses as hips thudded against you, pubic bone grinding against your clit.

You were _just_ beginning to enjoy it; the pace, the rough impact bodies surging together, hard cock caressing your inner walls, when he was finished with a deep, masculine, groan. Dragging himself from inside you, you felt the first spurt of hot cum splashed your insides before he had pulled all the way out to ejaculate over your stomach and breasts, decorating your body with his seed.

‘I could get used to seeing you covered in cum.’ Charles chuckled somewhere above your head as you lay there dazed from the frantic speed of it all, surrounded by heavy panting and the smell of sex and sweat.

Lee hovered over your lips to provide a reassuring kiss and you responded eagerly, tongue slipping between his teeth to tangle with his.

There was a corresponding male chuckle from between your legs ‘aye’ that caused your ears to prick up. He was _Scottish_. That was definitely a Scottish accent. The only Templar you could name with that distinctive inflection was John Pitcairn. Was it him currently enjoying himself with you? You were shocked he would even think that was about you given that you hadn’t really had much contact.

Charles mouth was busy working against yours, distracting, when you practically dragged your mouth away from his kisses to cry out.

‘Oh, God!’ Someone had just penetrated you. It couldn’t be Pitcairn, if that’s indeed who it was before. He had finished, the evidence of which was currently plastered over your body.

Arching against the bed, fingers and toes curling, you whimpered in overstimulation as someone else happily gave you the same treatment; pressed between your thighs and roughly fucking you, forcing small yelps from low in your throat. A jab of mortification shot through your gut at the prospect of being so thoroughly taken by a complete stranger, covered in another’s bodily fluid while a third watched but somehow the wrongness of it only made you enjoy it all the more.

This was unbelievable. Incredibly erotic, and _just_ what you had in mind when you enlisted Charles into your roleplay last time. He had definitely upped his game for this occasion. You moaned shamelessly, not even able to pretend you didn’t want it.

Your new mystery man finished the same way as the last, disappointingly quickly and just as a warm, heavy, weight was beginning to grow low in your abdomen. He slipped out from between your legs to finish with a satisfied groan across your stomach.

You could only imagine what kind of sight you looked like right now, naked, bound, flushed and covered in cum. Judging from the enthusiastically hot kisses that Charles was giving you, he was enjoying the sight anyway.

You startle as the door thuds and Charles pulls away from his occupation of your mouth to reassure you.

‘It’s ok, it’s just them leaving.’ He murmurs, easing off of the bed, returning quickly with a warm, damp, cloth where begins to lovingly clean you up.

Charles tsks lightly as he sweeps the cloth over your sensitive skin. ‘So selfish, couldn’t even have the decency to bring you to climax.’ He joked, carefully wiping the sweat and cum gathered between your breasts and legs.

The warm water felt amazing against your clit and you wiggle your hips, hoping that he would continue and give you the pleasure he promised, but Charles pulls away once he was satisfied you were clean, ignoring your disappointed whine.

‘Don’t worry; you’ll get your turn soon.’ He teased.

Pouting at him, the Templar only chuckles deeply in response, slipping off the bed once more.

‘So, any guesses on who your paramours were?’

You will go with Pitcairn for number one based purely on the brief snippet of his accent that you were quite sure was a slip of the tongue. As for mystery man number two…it could really have been _anyone_. He had given no clues away as to his identity, and didn’t make the mistake of speaking. Johnson enjoyed seeing his seed decorate your body, which was something he would likely want if he had free reign. Granted he was usually a more considerate lover but without other options you took a guess that the second might be him.

‘Well, one out of two isn’t too bad.’ Lee mocked. ‘I’m afraid Mr Pitcairn’s satisfaction of ladies has a lot to be desired. I doubt you will be inviting him back.’

‘Who was the second then if it wasn’t Bill?’ You ask, infinitely curious.

Charles chuckled evilly. ‘Ah, ah, I’m not telling.’

‘Bastard.’ You muttered.

His response was a low, deep laugh. ‘Yes I am.’

Really, he was impossible to insult, and while your pouting usually worked on William and Haytham, Mr Lee wasn’t so easily swayed.

‘I have a feeling you will enjoy the next one.’ Charles promised.

The bedroom door opened and thudded closed, and you were left in silence with the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears and your body quivering frustratingly on the edge of orgasm.

As the door opened again you startled, straining against your bonds and eager to hear who was approaching you now.

‘Charles?’ You query, and he quickly sooths you by confirming it was him, but someone else was with him, you could just _sense_ it. Whether it was a change in air pressure in the room, or shift of bodies, or even the natural energy radiating off someone you knew that Charles wasn’t alone.

Licking your lips you hold your breath, waiting for what was coming.

The bed dips violently as a very solid weight sinks onto it and crawls up towards you from the bottom. Warm palms skim gently across your bare legs to announce his presence.

Your new mystery lover wastes no time in settling himself comfortably between your spread legs, and it’s definitely a _him_ from the breadth of his body and hard muscled chest against yours. His shirt and breeches caress your bare skin as he slips over you, drawing level with your mouth to offer a breath-stealingly intense kiss.

The shape of his mouth, the slight teasing _flick_ of his tongue against yours, the unmistakable smell of leather and seawater; you know _exactly_ who this is, and smile brightly when he pulls back, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

‘Shay!’

The Templar tsks good-naturedly. ‘Well that’s no fun, she knows it’s me.’ He jests, with that soft, Irish brogue.

You can’t help but grin. ‘Of course I know it’s you. You don’t think that I’d know the smell of you? The taste of you? Just because I can’t see you.’

Shay chuckles, in agreement, hands wandering feely down your prone, naked body. He tugs the rope around your waist gently and it bites your skin just a little firmer, the rope running between your legs pulling the lips of your pussy open to expose you even more.

‘Nice knot work, Charles. Give you a job on the Morrigan any day.’ He jokes, and you can hear the other Templar chuckle form somewhere across the room. Was he enjoying watching Shay tease you, touch you, explore and admire what he had done?

‘So, I guessed right, what’s my prize?’

Shay only laughed. ‘Me.’ He teased, mouth returning to your neck, trailing his lips over the big pulse point on your neck until you were groaning for him.

Shay’s mouth trailed a hot line down your throat, pausing briefly at your breasts to nuzzle and suck as he pleased, and there was frustratingly nothing your could do to stop or encourage him, but to be fair he seemed to be doing just fine all on his own. He tugged on your nipple carefully, stretching the skin until he released your breast with a soft bounce and it earned him a soft giggle from you while he toyed with the other.

He playfully sank his teeth into your stomach, thighs, any fleshy bits that his wandering mouth came across, leaving you panting and begging for more direct stimulation.

When he finally inched lower to lie between your spread legs, you were almost pleading for him to give you something more. Warm breath gently grazed across your already-wet sex, which only added to your frustration as Shay continued to tease you, kissing slowly up you your thighs to the junction of your legs, nuzzling your outer lips before pulling away, fingers trailing a delicate path through your pubic hair.

You could feel your inner muscles tighten, seeking some sort of stimulation. Charles toy in your backside was still present, its heavy, ever-present weight, filling you, stretching you, only made you acutely more aware that your poor cunt was empty.

You would have been surprised if the low, keening moans that you let out when Shay finally gave in and dipped his tongue into you, weren't heard by the crowded tavern downstairs. He traced your outer folds, lapping gently at the slick already present before teasing your opening with that nimble tongue.

Shay covered your sex easily with his mouth, offering long, slow, licks with the wide pad of his tongue until your clit was buzzing, blood coursing fire through your veins.

You were too busy moaning for Shay, lost in the moment, in the delicious feel of him when those moans turned into a startle gasp as another weight unexpectedly settled on the bed beside you. You automatically glanced upwards, only to be met with the blackness of the blindfold.

Charles chuckled from across the room at your fright and you wondered what he was doing. You longed to take the blindfold off, to see them, and let your gaze wander down the sculpted plains of their bodies, trace every exquisite dip and hollow. Was Charles pleasuring himself while he watched? You wish you could see if those thick fingers were running the length of his cock.

So Shay wasn’t alone for your fun? He brought a friend.

The Templar pulled back only slightly from his wonderful torment of your clit, staying close enough to torture you with the deep breathy pants escaping his lips and blowing over your heated flesh.

‘So you guessed me right, now who he is? Shay teased.

Well this new man hadn’t spoken a word, or touched you at all, yet. How were your supposed to tell? Taking a deep breath you could smell the rich, earth scent of leather again, but something floral underpinned that, chamomile maybe…soap? Your mystery paramour had probably scrubbed himself before coming here to take part in the festivities. He could be anyone…perhaps if he were to kiss you, or if you could get him to make a noise, give himself away as Pitcairn had done.

You shake your head, you couldn’t identify the second man, yet, and Shay laughed, returning to his task of turning your clit into a part of his body, and drawing excited noises from low in your throat.

The new figure settled on the bed near your head and gently turned your face towards him with a warm, strong palm. A rough thumb traced your bottom lip, letting you run your tongue experimentally over it, before he pinched your chin roughly, opening your mouth.

The rustle of fabric was met with something warm and silk brushing your bottom lip and you let out a shaky breath at such brazen instruction.

He'd given you an explicit, non-verbal order on what he was expecting and you practically squirmed in submissiveness. This is what this fantasy was about; to give and receive pleasure, to be used as others see fit, to be a practical _toy_.

Compliantly, you opened your mouth a little wide and sucked the head of his cock between your lips.

A deep, male groan is all that met your actions. He wasn’t talking; there must have been something distinctive about his voice, something you would recognise. Hickey’s dulcet cockney tones maybe? Or Haytham's smooth, refined drawl? That being said, you would likely recognise all of your current ‘boyfriends’ from just their voice, so you were back to square one in guessing who he was.

You couldn’t really move at all thanks to Charles’ careful restraints so you settled for swiping your tongue across the sensitive head of your mystery man’s cock, and let him do the work.

The deep, salty tang of pre-cum tantalised your tongue as he moved his hips, slowly at first, building up a little more momentum once you were comfortable.

Fingers threaded through your hair, twirling, holding you in a favourable position and using it as leverage to carefully fuck your mouth. Whoever he was, he was considerate, careful, holding back, practically quivering in effort not to thrust too deeply or choke you in your very vulnerable position.

Between your legs Shay was busy licking and sucking your clit, edging you to the brink of orgasm with that very talented mouth. His fingers had wandered to the base of the toy currently filling your backside. Each time he gave it a little wiggle or pushed against it, it stimulated your insides, sending a fresh wave of moaning and arching onto of the bed.

Gripping the base of the device firmly, Shay _twisted_ and you had to pull back from fellating the man in your mouth to scream in pleasure.

Now you knew just what the grooves cut into it had been for, as you could feel every single movement. And it was _amazing_. Every turn of the object deep inside of you caressed your inner walls as you clamped down on it, panting at the foreign sensation. Combined with the Templars mouth working your clit you were soon a shivering, sweating ball of tension, teetering on the brink of an explosive orgasm.

Your loud, overwhelmingly enthusiastic, moaning was quickly drowned out as a very hard cock was forced back into your mouth with purpose, fingers curling around your jaw to keep you in place.

You resumed your task of lavishing attention on him with your tongue, running it across the sensitive underside as his hips bucked against you.

You could feel yourself inches away from cumming, just another flick of Shay’s masterful tongue, just another twist of the plug inside of you…

A deep, gruff voice above you growled, ‘you swallow it, all of it,’ and that’s the only warning you received before your mouth was flooded with the thick, salty tang, of his cum.

You tried your best, not relishing the bitter flavour, but you were reclining at a bad angle and could feel small trickles escaping your lips and dribbling down your chin, but that didn’t matter as the next thing you could feel was the rapid spasming of your pussy as your own orgasm washed over you, rippling through your bound body and leaving you writhing and moaning on the bedspread. Little coloured stars blinked behind the blackness of your blindfold and your skin tingles everywhere that the ropes hadn’t cut into.

Shay’s mouth continued soft licks against your pussy, sending little jolts through your body until you were begging him to stop; too sore, too swollen, clit _aching_ in pleasure.

Panting heavily, a thick male finger gathered the slight trickle of cum out the corner of your mouth and slipped the digit between your lips, clearly demanding that you lap off the last traces. You didn’t mind, too busy coasting down from the orgasm inducted high that the Irishman has lovingly provided.

Shay crawled up your body from between your legs, pausing to place meandering kisses, eventually meeting your lips and kissing you deeply, sharing the taste of your body mixed with that of the other Templar.

‘Still can’t guess who our friend is?’ He teased.

You could sense his smirk as he lapped at your mouth, flicking his warm tongue against your lips.

Well, having a cock in your mouth wasn’t really much to go on, though there was something familiar about his voice. It was too deep, rough; you have a feeling that the second man was disguising it on purpose.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. It would just be a guess.

‘How about now?’ A rich, honeyed voice purred in your ear as the second man stretched out beside you and you start in shock.

‘Haytham?!’ You had no idea it had been him, probably why he refrained from kissing or talking. You would have known it was him just as you knew instantly that it had been Shay.

The Grandmaster chuckled in that incredibly vibrating, suggestive, way of his. Offering hot, passionate kisses in compensation while his hands gently stroked your sides, hips, any patch of bare skin he could reach.

‘Well I must say, I’ve had fun.’ He muttered sardonically and you laughed, happy to be in their company.

‘Swap places, Shay?’ Haytham offered, voice low and intimate and your breath hitched. Despite your very fulfilling orgasm you would happily go for round two with them.

You were in no position to agree or disagree, bound as you were, you just had to lie there on the bed as it bounced and jostled as the Templars traded places.

Shay carefully slipped his hard, pulsing, cock into your mouth, letting a deep, satisfied groan issue from his lips as he did so.

‘Good girl.’ He cooed at you, as you gently sucked on him and you flushed under his praise.

Shay took more liberties, letting himself move a little rougher within you, satisfied that you could take it.

Breathing was becoming an issue as he pressed deeper; you concentrated on nothing but breathing hard through your nose, swallowing back gathering saliva and panting when he pulled back far enough.

‘You alright, lass?’ He asked, reassuring himself that he wasn’t being _too_ forceful, and you mumbled your assent around the thick shaft in your mouth.

Haytham too, could afford to be a little more demanding with you.

Shay’s mouth had left you wet, clit pulsing in stimulation and body sated. Haytham pressed harder, firmer in effort to bring you to climax again, tongue scraping across your sensitive flesh just that bit rougher, two large fingers slipping into your cunt to probe and massage along your inner walls, searching for just the right spot to work over to make you buck against him, groaning and straining against your bonds.

The Grandmaster worked you to another toe-curling orgasm, smirking against your skin at your squeals of pleasure as your inner muscles fluttering madly against his fingers and clit quivering on the pad of his tongue.

Shay didn’t require you to swallow; just as the first thread of ejaculate touched your tongue he pulled out. He was one of the ones that clearly enjoyed marking his territory too, happy to let the sticky beads of cum trickle down your lips and chin, enjoying a deep, probing kiss afterwards.

Just when you thought that they were finished, bodies spent both inside and outside of yours, the two Templars decided to torture you some more, letting you recover just enough before combining the efforts of their mouths, tongues, and fingers to coax you to another orgasm that left you crying out, cursing them and screaming every swear word you knew. By the time they were finished with you, you were exhausted, sweating, and barely lucid; drugged from the endorphins flooding your body. They incredibly showed signs of trying for a fourth, when you had to beg them to let you rest.

 

 

Charles was left with the job of cleaning you up again, and the ferocity and possessiveness of his kisses let you know how much he was enjoying himself.

The bed shifted as both Haytham and Shay slipped from it, taking away the happy warmth of their bodies and earning a disappointed moan from you. You simply wanted a little rest, they didn’t need to leave.

You called out to them, sensing that they were heading for the door as Charles ran a cooling cloth between your legs. God, your skin felt as if were on fire.

‘Wait? You are not staying?’ You ask, a little disappointed.

‘You’ll maybe see us later, love.’ Shay offered in an amused tone.

‘Yes, you have a long night ahead of you.’ Haytham promised huskily.

With that to look forward to, you heard the distinct sound of the bedroom door open and close.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Charles 'date' brings some more fun with the man and a new one off encounter with Colonel Monro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks for lovely comments and kudos, and for sticking with the story, even if it seems that I have abandoned it. I think we will have one more chapter of fun with Charles and the other Templars before moving on to ideal 'dates' of the rest. Monro was sweet in Rogue, he deserves even just a little fun.

 

Squirming against your bonds, the rope bit a little further into your skin reminding you that you were quite securely trapped.

Charles appeared somewhat amused as you wiggled your fingers and toes involuntarily, offering smug chuckles at your predicament.

It seemed to be reflexive, _instinctive_ even, to try and test the restraints, even though you knew fine well that you couldn’t straighten out your limbs.

A warm, heavy, palm caressed down your throat and across your breasts, leisurely, as if he was stroking a beloved pet, but no one ever petted their cat quite so sensually, fingertips gliding over your skin and raising trails of goosebumps in their wake. Thick fingers briefly wandered between your legs, drawing a soft sigh from your parted lips, but he didn’t stay too long, not quite providing the lasting caress that would quickly build pleasure to a crescent within you. That wasn’t Charles aim, he was simply…marking his territory, exploring your body as he saw fit since you couldn’t do a whole lot to prevent him, not that you would wish to of course.

The solid line of the Templar’s body curled against yours as he alighted the bed, stretching out and turning your face towards his to provide an intense, arrogant yet passionate, kiss. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip, Charles growled lowly in his throat as you moaned softly against him, responding eagerly for more.

‘What did you enjoy the most?’ The Templar whispered against your skin, mouth unhurriedly trailing down your neck and collar, voice husked with arousal. ‘The roughness? The anonymity?’

You nod into his caresses. _Yes_. All of it.

Straining against Lee’s frustratingly teasing hands and mouth, you whimper agreement. You couldn’t articulate just why you enjoyed it, or even your most favourite part. You doubt that you would be able to adequately explain how easy it had been to abandon any sense of propriety or shame in favour of just a little more pleasure.

‘Or perhaps it was the restraints? Hmm? Do you enjoy being tied and helpless? A slave to someone else’s _wants_ and _desires_?’

A small moan escapes your lips as Charles teases you, goads you, voice low and rough and dripping in sin like honey falling off the back of a spoon. You only hope that he will continue with his touch; your body straining on top of the mattress.

‘Do you want to know what _I_ enjoyed?’ He purrs between kisses, dragging your mouth back towards his to be plundered and claimed should you dare to shift away.

Nodding, you find yourself unable to form words, paralysed in desire and desperation and want. You need more attention, more stimulation; you were becoming far too spoiled with their attention you realised, when one person, one _orgasm_ , was no longer enough.

Charles presses his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hand finding its way between your legs to tease your lips. ‘Watching you moan and writhe, enjoy it as cum seeped from your body from someone that you had no idea who it was.’

You groan as his filthy imagery as his teeth toyed lightly with the lobe, ashamed and embarrassed and aroused all at the same time. You enjoyed it, and you would enjoy it again if you got the chance.

The Templar’s kisses were becoming fiercer, possessive, demanding. He was _painfully_ aroused, you could tell, masculine body taught and almost shaking against yours as his tongue demanded entrance to your mouth.

You strained and flexed against your bonds as Charles pressed himself between your legs, covering your body with his larger one and grinding his hips into you until the front of his breeches were sodden from the arousal practically leaking from you.

'I wanted to wait a little longer.' He grunted, almost disappointed in himself.

Pulling away suddenly, he left you shivering from the loss of the warmth and pleasure of him so close.

Naked and alone on the bed again, you protest loudly, demanding attention and not caring if it was impertinent, fully expecting a wonderfully playful reprimand from the Templar, but Charles only chuckles lowly, offering a gentle smack to your bare thigh as his footsteps echo towards the other side of the room.

When he returned, something cold and metallic pressed against your bare leg, gliding across bare skin in a sensual, provocative way and you angle your head to try and sneak a peek out the bottom of your blindfold, but to no avail.

Carefully, you are dragged towards the edge of the bed, wandering hands providing all too brief stimulation as the Templar controlled every movement.

With a hissing sigh one of the ropes at your leg gives way suddenly, offering more freedom of movement. Another around your middle sags and the strain against your shoulder blades loosens considerably.

You soon realised that Charles was cutting you loose from your restraints, all that beautiful and careful knot work coming undone under his knife. He seemed expert at getting you out of the bonds just as easily as he seemed to get you into them.

You breathed deeply once free, partially glad to be able to finally unfold your prone limbs into a normal position.

Stretching your shoulders, and flexing your muscles, you let out a small involuntary almost-pain sound, as you arch all the way to your toes. It was exciting being tied up at Mr Lee's mercy, but after a while things just began to ache.

'Are you alright?' Charles asks as he drags the last scraps of rope from underneath you.

You mumble agreement as you slide to the edge of the bed and try to stand. Luckily, the Templar caught you as your tingly feeling limbs were not quite up to fully supporting you just yet.

Dragging you close, Charles pulls you against his body, arms snaking around your waist. Palms skim lower to offer a teasing pinch of your backside and you all but squeaked in surprise against his kisses.

He only sniggered in response, keeping firm leverage on your backside.

You might be untied, but you were still blindfolded. Automatically, you reach up to try and remove it but Charles chastised you with a deep rumble from his chest.

'Ah, ah.' Hands _down_.’ He warned playfully.

Pouting, you try and win him over. 'Can't I see you?'

You could almost _hear_ him smirk. 'No.'

'But I already know that it's you!'

There was the briefest pause as the Templar considered your argument, warm breath tickling your cheek as he trailed kisses across it before finally capturing your lips.

'I want to _watch_ you.' You breathe, hoping that he’ll grant you.

‘I'll let you take it off-' Charles offers, with a sly purr '-but only for me. And only if...'

A firm hand on your shoulder pushed you downwards, guiding you to your knees and ultimately finishing his sentence for him.

Kneeling before him, Charles fingertips gently curl under the edges of the blindfold, lifting it upwards.

The room might only be lit by the soft glow from a few flickering candles and low burning oil lamps, but you still blink against the brighter light, adjusting to your new found vision.

Standing over you, Charles cuts a commanding figure; still fully dressed, posture ridged and glaring down at you with that effortlessly cold and penetrating look he always managed, bottle green eyes shimmering reflectively in the dimness. He strokes your check as he draws you closer to his body, warm palm sending shivering tendrils across your skin.

Placing fingers under your chin, Charles tilts your face up to him, a smirk curling his lip and twitching his thick, dark, moustache as he practically looks down his nose at you.

Shifting on your knees you squirm under his scrutiny, bare breasts lightly brushing the soft cotton of his breeches and legs pressing against the smooth leather of his boots, relishing the violent lust in his gaze and what fun was undoubtedly to come.

The Templar’s body strains in excitement despite his outwardly controlling demeanour, the long, hard line of his cock outlined impressively in his breeches and unapologetically demanding your attention.

Shaking fingers reach up carefully and being to loosen his clothing, just enough to let his cock spill free, hard and solid against the fabric and close enough to dart out your tongue for your first taste.

Charles grunts when you finally get to touch him intimately, your palms wrapping around him greedily and lips tracing meandering kisses along his length.

The flesh between your fingers quivers and pulses with each squeeze and caress, blood coursing hotly though it and spilling little translucent droplets of cum from the tip.

His breathing shifts, chest rising and falling heavily as you continue to caress him, just enough pressure to create a build-up of pleasurable sensations in his body, but not enough to force the fun to end too soon. 

It's so intimate, watching him, gaze locked together while you fumble to pleasure him.

But it’s been too long; you have been allowed too much leeway to do as you please, to touch him how you want. That’s not why he enjoys you being at his feet. With a devilish smirk, Charles palms thread through your hair, fingertips curling against your scalp while his hips thrust more towards you. The blunt head of his cock presses demandingly against your bottom lip while his hands direct your head to a favourable position.

A needy moan escapes your throat as you relent and slip him between your lips, savouring Charles own parted lips and deep, unintentional, growl. Just that small break in that usually stoic and taciturn composure feels like a victory to you. The mere act of doing this for him sends a wave of pleasure through your body and you shift restlessly, writhing against the growing demand for your own satisfaction between your legs.

When you pull back, trailing the flat pad of your tongue along the underside, his cock glistens with your saliva, straining in appreciation at your actions.

Charles pushes you insistently back down towards him, forcing you to take a deep breath and swallow the length down again, as much as you can manage.

The taste of him, the smell of his skin, so intimate has your sneaking your fingers down between your legs to tease yourself while you fellate him, enjoying the Templar dominating your mouth while you pleasure yourself.

He tries to remain composed, body rigid, one hand a tight fist in your hair and the other an even tighter one against the fabric of his breeches. That piercing gaze remains unwavering on you, but small, encouraging, desire-filled noises rumble from his throat giving him away. His hair, loose from its normally slicked back style, droops forwards into his eyes and hips flex instinctively, eagerly, to meet you.

With a gruff groan, Charles unexpectedly drags his cock from between your lips, leaving you panting, gaze unfocused and mind fuzzy with your own climax edging inexplicably closer and upset over its quick denial.

 _'Up_.' He growls, tugging you shakily to your feet.

You don't even make it to the bed. With a firm shove, Charles bends you over the nearby dresser; knocking neatly folded clothes and empty tumblers to the floor, and presses your naked body against the cool wood.

His breathing is heavy, hands firm and insistent against your pliable body. It’s clear he has had enough foreplay and can’t wait to have you.

Pulse hammering and stomach clenching in need, you press your cheek against the dresser, taking a quick peek over your shoulder as the Templar positions himself comfortably behind and kicks your legs apart, allowing his hand to wander between your legs, dipping through your folds and teasing your clit.

‘You’re all wet.’ He husks, gathering some of the moisture pooling at your entrance to coat your clit, making it tantalisingly easier for large, blunt, male fingers to slip across the delicate pearl. ‘What have I told you about self-pleasure without permission?’

If Charles was expecting you to be sorry when he was doing this then the he needed to rethink his idea of punishment. All you wanted was more touch, more pleasure, more of _him_. And the chance to cum of course.

He was _aching_ to fuck you and you were aching for him to do it.

Sticking your backside out further, you relish the feeling of his fingers driving harder against your nub, the rough fabric covering his legs scrapping the back of your thighs as his body undulated against yours.

When those inquisitive fingers suddenly depart your low moan of disappointment was audible; however Charles only moved as far as pressing the head of his cock against your clit and began maddeningly rubbing himself against you.

‘What were you thinking about as you touched yourself?’ He torments, lips trailing the back of your neck while he runs the blunt head of his cock through your damp folds, bumping and grinding against your clit with every thrust. ‘This? Me? Or one of the other Templars enjoying your body?’

If you could just move your hips a little you might get that wonderful first feeling of penetration, but Lee’s strong hands anchor you in place, even as you strain on tiptoes to get into a favourable position.

Charles chuckle at your actions is low and intimate, but he doesn’t relent, body teetering on the brink of fucking you but just holding back a fraction.

You know its coming and you can’t do anything to stop it. Your fingers scrabble against the dark wood of the dresser, desperate for something to grip tight as your vision blurs and pulse explodes in an intense, overwhelming, rhythm. Every muscles in your body feels as if it is quivering as you cum, uttering a series of low, unintelligible, curses as your taught body finally sags in relief.

Rest is out of the question, and your greedy whimper as Charles finally penetrates you is still full of the pent up need from his previous denials, not caring if you have already orgasmed once, you will more than happily take any more he has to offer.

Claiming you in once long smooth thrust causes you to gasp and wiggle your hips, moaning, desperate for more.

His hips move, slowly at first, what felt likely painfully minimal millimetres as your inner muscles squeeze tight, clamping onto the warm ridged cock dragging its way in and out of your body.

You are quick to move against him, push back against Charles body to try and match his thrusts, needing more movement, more friction, but the Templar is in control, palms tight against your hips and directing your movements.

A warm, heavy weight soon feels like it is growing low in your gut, different from when he teased your clit. You are convinced that you can feel the firm ridge on the underside of his cock, caressing over and over a little sensitive spot on the front wall of your vagina, inching you to something bigger.

With careful fingers, and slow movements, Charles pulled out the toy that he had so gently inserted into your backside earlier.

You had become so used to its insistent bulk, inner muscles tight around it, that you suddenly felt very empty and open without it.

You expected him to penetrate you there as he discarded the toy onto the dresser beside you. Charles was very partial to fucking you in the arse when the mood took him, but he continued as he was, pace a little quicker, thrusts becoming a little deeper and hips uncoordinated, edging you and him closer and closer to orgasm.

You were close again, you could feel it, each thrust jarring your body, inching you ever upwards to be practically splayed across the dresser. You had a death grip on the furniture beneath, letting Charles take control while you remained pinned and submissive, body at his mercy.

Sneaking a hand down between your legs you coax yourself to completion, loving the body racking thrusts of Charles deep in your cunt and his low growls of pleasure in your ear.

Panting, trembling from the muscle-spasming effects of your orgasm, you can still feel the Templar shaking in exertion behind you, thighs quivering against the back of yours, and approaching his own release.

While you recover, moaning eagerly under him and coasting down from another particularly amazing orgasm Charles pulled out unexpectedly, quickly slipping himself deep into your ass and leaving you gripping the edge of wood beneath you with a surprised hiss.

You could _feel_ him cum. Pulsing cock spurting his seed deep into your bowel as you remained pinned to the furniture underneath you.

Kissing the back of your neck affectionately in post coital lethargy, Charles carefully extracts his softening cock from your backside, leaving you spent and whimpering and a trail of sticky cum dribbling from your puckered hole.

Before you could move or react, or even think of a witty remark to tease him with, the Templar spreads your cheeks and unceremoniously plunged the toy back into you, leaving you clenching around it.

You glance over your shoulder catching his dark gaze. He was smirking at you; cheeks flushed red in exertion, hair in disarray as he smoothly straightened his haphazard clothing and tucked his cock back into his breeches.

'Now it doesn't matter who else fucks you tonight.' He purred, leaning over your prone body, offering an arrogant kiss before wandering to your earlobe and letting his teeth sink into the soft flesh there. 'There will always be some of _me_ inside of _you_.' He chuckled, and you couldn’t help laugh at his terrible jest either.

Legs wobbly from the extensive exercise and body tingling in post-orgasm exertion, you feel slightly stiff as you straighten, accepting Mr Lee’s help down from the dresser he had so casually draped you across.

The Templar offers to return to the bar to get you drinks while you have a chance to wash and clean up after all the mess he made in pinning you during your frenzied coupling.

Picking up the discarded sash of black silk from the floor, you had a feeling that Charles would be insisting on its use again before long, so placed it back on the bed.  


 

 

 

 

'I have a dilemma.' Charles states on his return, letting you have your pick of the selection of wines and sweet treats he arrived back with.

He was most insistent on blindfolding you again and took great pleasure securing the silky fabric across your eyes and easing you back onto the bed, letting rough male hands wander as he did so.

'What’s wrong?' You murmur, arching into his touch, hoping for a few more pleasurable caresses. Your reward is a sharp smack on the backside that sends you squirming away from him on the bed laughing, only to be wrestled back and enveloped in his embrace and treated to a few smugly possessive kisses.

'I have someone most _eager_ to be here.' He offers, slowly.

There was unusual hesitation in Charles voice hidden amongst his teasing that, in turn, made you wary.

'But?' You prompt.

There is a small pause before the Templar continues. 'But…he doesn't want me in the room.'

He had promised that you wouldn't be left alone. You had been tied, and very vulnerable, and wouldn't want to be left at the mercy of some stranger who could potentially hurt you. This was clearly someone that you hadn't been with, Charles wouldn't have hesitated to leave you alone and restrained had it been Bill or Haytham, or even Thomas and Shay.

Your first instinct was to decline, bow out now that you had your bit of fun. 'Are you suspicious of his motives?'

'No.’ Charles sounded very sure. ‘He's fairly honourable. He’s not a man whom I would hesitate in turning my back on or to defend me. I only considered it because of his character, that and the fact that he did not want you restrained in any way.'

Well that made you feel a bit better. Unable to move left you in a dangerous position, but if you were not to be tied like Mr Lee and some of his colleagues enjoyed earlier then you could easily remove the blindfold yourself, or even fight back if the other Templar’s intention were indeed nefarious. Perhaps this person was just a bit shy? Not everyone likes an audience.

'That’s why I bring the choice to you.’ Charles states. ‘I could wait outside; within earshot should you need to call for help.'

After a few moments deliberation, you agreed to try and see what became of it.

'Ok. He can come in.'

With a fleeting warm kiss, Charles departed, leaving you both nervous and excited all at once, now all alone on the bed.

Plumping the pillows behind you, you make yourself comfortable, smoothing down your blindfold and mussed up hair from Charles rather energetic fucking, and feeling very much like a queen seductress awaiting the next suitor to come and impress her.

Listening intently for the tell-tale catch of the bedroom door handle, when it finally clicks opens and closes gently you fight not to start; too wound up, too nervous, throat and lips dry and heart beating a loud tempo in your chest.

There is uneasy silence and you are left holding your breath, ears straining in order to make up for the hindered vision.

'Hello?' You query, nervously.

The answering _'Hello'_ takes several heartbeats, which had briefly made you wonder if you heard someone coming through the door at all.

The stranger’s response is low, gruff, inexplicably male, but he quickly clears his throat. Nervous perhaps?

Silence again.

What did you do now? Try small talk? You were naked and blindfolded on a bed, his reasoning for being here was not conversation, and neither was yours.

After another uneasy pause, that left you picking delicately at the fabric of the bedding, just looking for something to do with your hands, came the sound of boot heels clicking against the wooden floor.

Drawing closer to the bed, there is the distinctive rustle of fabric indicating a heavy coat or jacket was discarded across the back of a chair.

The newcomer clears his throat again, a delicate, polite, cough.

'May I sit?' He asks considerately, voice now soft, even, surprisingly smooth.

You _know_ this voice. You are sure of it. You are positive that you have heard it before, and quickly rack your brain trying to think of exactly where or when.

Nodding agreement, you still fight a small gasp from your throat when the bed dips as he sits upon it.

He's close to you, you can feel the warmth radiate off of his body but he's not made the any moves to draw closer or touch.

Licking your dry lips you lie motionless awaiting the Templar to do something more, but be was strangely still and quiet now that he was in a more favourable position.

You eagerly await his next move. Was his hesitation of nervousness? Or perhaps he was simply biding his time, building-up tension?

‘May I touch you?’ The stranger eventually breaks his silence, leaning in closer, but still not pressing any part of his body against yours.

My, how very solicitous of him. Not like the rather demanding treatment you received earlier. So far your mysterious gentleman had done nothing without asking, taken no liberties, and sought your permission for each action.

‘It’s kind of he point in being here.’ You smirk, teasing, and the Templar chuckles lowly in response. ‘I suppose it is.’

A warm palm is gently placed across your bare stomach. His hands were soft against your skin, pleasantly warm, fingers splayed against your flesh. It was just resting there, not doing anything, nothing untoward, not making a move to inch to more intimate areas or to seek out more than he asked.

Silence loomed again, more comfortable this time, the strangers soft, rhythmic breathing sending little puffs of warm air across your skin. He made no move to push things further, and seemed quite content to stretch out beside you on the bed, the slightest contact of skin on skin.

The gentle, unconscious, flex of those fingers sent small shivers across your stomach and the stirring of arousal in your body, anticipating just what those hands could be doing to you. However, your new mystery paramour was happy to move things along at a snail’s pace, and was being very careful not to push towards anything you had not explicitly agreed to. 

His hand remained resting against your stomach, relaxed, unwavering, as if you were not naked and blindfolded on a bed waiting some more, very desired, sexual gratification. He was either a master of long foreplay or he was having second thoughts.

You can feel him hover over you, breath tickling across your check, warmth blowing down your neck. His face must only be inches from yours but your vision is filled with nothing but silken blackness.

‘May I have a kiss?’ He whispers, mouth close to yours, sweet brandy-scented breath filling your nostrils. 

Someone had obviously been sharing drinks with Bill and Haytham outside in the tavern. And with that request it thankfully seemed that he had not changed his mind after all.

Arching your back, you tilt your head up wards, hoping that it was the right angle to invite him to explore further.

If you thought that his hesitation or apparent shyness was any indication of his lack of skill and experience then you had sorely misjudged, as Templar’s kiss was full of deep, unwavering promise.

He was _almost_ as good a kisser as Bill, whom you considered to be quite a master of the art, and the gentle flick of his tongue against yours began stirring the beginnings of arousal between your legs.

You shift, superciliously, drawing closer to the warm aura of his body, letting the soft fabric of his shirt and breeches caress your nakedness. Your legs came into contact with smooth leather boots and you almost giggle at the fact he had tried too hard to be polite and solicitous and completely forgot to remove his shoes.

The Templar’s hand shifted from its position on your stomach, and you tensed in delicious anticipation of where those hands would now wander. However he only cupped your cheek gently, drawing your face towards him for a better angle to deepen his kiss.

After an age of getting dizzy on breath-stealing kisses, you shamelessly curled your body against his, brazenly guiding the hand currently massaging your neck down to your breasts.

Your mystery lover tenses for a moment, deep breath hitching as palms wander over the new exciting expanse of skin and offering a teasing squeeze.

Pulling back from your mouth he chuckles lowly. 'Not afraid to demand what you want.'

A thumb scrapes across your peaking nipple as he abandons your mouth to toy with it instead, rolling the bud into his mouth to suck and lick while a hand wanders further down for exploration. The relaxed confidence in which he covers your groin, fingers seeking your clit has you moaning, arching into his touch.

Your hands grab at the Templar’s shirt sleeves, curl around his shoulders and back of his neck, drawing that mouth deeper against your breasts.

'Well if you don't ask for what you want, you might not get it.' You goad, voice wavering against the unexpectedly direct and pleasurable onslaught of his mouth and hands.

His fingertips gently caressed the hooded cover of your clit and began rubbing in small, teasingly-slow circles, leaving you mewing and begging softly for something more.

‘I'm curious how you got an invite.' You gabble, trying to focus on anything other than the amazingly overwhelming pleasure now assaulting your body, biting your lip against a tirade of expletives threatening to tumble forwards as he stroked and kissed and nuzzled delicate sensitive spots across your body try. Bill might have been the fractionally better kisser, but this man had _amazing_ hands.

'Charles has been very...colourful with his descriptions of you.’ He announced, voice laced with humour. ‘I find some of the stories incredibly erotic.'

'Charles blabs about our sex life? I'm going to kill him.' You state with a small amount of annoyance. Charles will definitely be getting a piece of your mind when he was allowed back into the room.

There was a placatingly amused chuckle above you as the Templar’s mouth continued to lick and nip at your neck and breasts. 'We did get him extraordinarily drunk. And I must say there was no small encouragement from Mr Hickey. I'm sure had Grandmaster had been there we may not have received quite so…vivid an image.'

It was difficult to be cross with such a skilful assault on your body. Your legs parted wider, eagerly, when a warm palm skimmed across your bare thigh, a teasing caress all the way up to the junction of your legs.

The way ‘ _Grandmaster’_ rolled off the tongue of your mystery paramour suddenly caused a very clear image of his face in your mind. You were pretty sure the soft spoken gentle man curled beside you and currently providing immense pleasure was Colonel Monro.

To confirm your suspicious you sneaked your palm up to cup his jaw finding him smooth and clean shaven, not the hint of stubble. Inching your fingers towards his hairline, seeking out the distinctive curled wig, they _just_ brushed the coarse fabric when Monro’s hand covered yours, tugging away to safer territory, knowing something like that would give him away and obviously thinking he could still conceal his identity. But too late, your suspiciouns were already confirmed.

The colonel wasn’t going to give you another chance to explore more, pinning your wrist securely to the bed he renewed the vigour of his kisses, lips scaling the taught column of your throat before claiming your mouth, tongue plunging between your lips to tangle with yours.

His body held yours in place, curled against the warmth of his, legs entwined to prevent your escape. Not that you had any plan on doing so, not when those large, dexterous hands skimmed across your stomach, caressing your pubic mound and covered your groin with a swift, lazy ease of someone who knows what they are doing and wastes no time in aiming for the most pleasure-inducing actions.

Fingers tease your outer lips, toying with the already damp folds of your pussy until your hips wiggled in frustration for more direct touch.

Monro smirked against your kisses, spurred on by your actions as your body unconsciously undulates against his, driving those explorative fingers harder against your clit, seeking your own release.

The Templar doesn’t disappoint, circling and caressing the sensitive nub until it was gorged with blood and receptive to even the slightest of swipes from his fingertips and your body was left strung out and wound up on too much sensation.

After what felt like hours of careful, amazingly-intense, foreplay, that left no inch of skin or part of your body uncaressed, your trembling breaths as you reach your peak under Monro’s careful ministrations are stolen into his mouth, lost in his slow, endless kisses.

Panting, and writhing against the Templar, he’s happy to leisurely continue stroking and teasing your down from your high, letting you enjoy the blissful afterglow while keeping you warmed up for more possible fun.

Satisfied and spent, you are happy to lie snuggled against the warmth of his body; eyes closed behind your blindfold, and enjoy the gentle after caress of Monro’s mouth and hands, anticipating the inevitable next stage of his seduction. The Templar surprises you by offering a final, lingering kiss before pulling away.

'I must be going.' Monro muttered reluctantly.

Leave? He couldn't leave just yet. Not when the two of you could be having so much more fun together. You hadn’t gotten a chance to explore under those complicated Templar robes of his, or find out if he preferred Charles energetic rough type of lovemaking or Bill’s more sedate, gentle, approach.

As the bed shifts, and he begins to roll away from you, you grab a handful of shirt.

'Wait, Monro?'

He stills under your touch, silence heavy in the air for a moment.

'How long have you known it was me?' He finally murmurs, with a hint of amusement, body relaxing but remaining at the edge of the bed.

'A woefully short time actually.’ You confess. ‘Considering we have met on several occasions.'

The Templar snorts. ‘You weren’t supposed to know at all, its part of the game.’

‘I’m very competitive.’ You tease.

Leaning closer, you press your body against his, inviting him to do the same, kiss, touch; you would welcome either.

'You don't need to run off so quickly.’ You assure him, placing a gentle kiss against his pursed lips. ‘I'd be happy to return the favour.'

There's surprising hesitation from Monro, you can feel it in the sudden tenseness of his frame and the uneasy silence now hanging in the air, something that you haven’t had a lot of from most of your recent encounters with these Templars. After the amount of pleasure you have just received at this man’s hands, and mouth, you had expected him to seek out some for himself.

'There’s no need, really.' He states, but finds himself returning your kiss.

Perhaps he didn’t want to push for more? Or allow it to appear that his only reason for causing such pleasure was tit for tat?

You are having none of that. Curling your fingers into the lapel of his waistcoat you tug him closer towards you for another kiss.

While Monro was distracted, you carefully slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the firm line of his erection but find...nothing.

He's touched you, teased you, curled up in bed beside your naked body, brought you to a very satisfying orgasm…normally most men would be at least _slightly_ aroused themselves by now.

Perhaps he needed a little more encouragement?

Your further exploration is met with a sigh and gentle removal of your hand from more intimate areas of his body.

'There's no need.' Monro sighed resignedly.

Halting your attempted assault on his body, it was clear your actions were getting no response; the soft cushion of his genitals still tucked into his breeches.

He’s tense and stiff beside you, uncomfortable, and you want to get to the bottom of it, or help in any way.

It seems ridiculous to try and have a serious conversation with the man blindfolded, so you slip the offending garment off, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjust to the room.

You get your first glimpse of Monro, leaning carefully on the bed beside you, long legs stretched out and looking as casual as you had ever seen the man, hat and long military jacket abandoned on a nearby chair, cravat loosened from and hanging from his neck revealing a pale ‘v’ of skin. He was older than Haytham, much older, judging from the deep set lines around his eyes and mouth but with kind light-blue eyes. The white wig that he habitually wore was neatly curled, if a little mussed after your activities, and shirt cuffs rolled upwards showing off still-toned forearms. However his expression suggested very much as if he wishes to flee off it the bed and get out of the room very quickly.

You watch him carefully as he doesn’t quite meeting your eye.

'It’s not that I wouldn’t love to. It's just...' He sighed deeply, frustrated, cheeks turning scarlet. 'I am unable to…I cannot…perform.'

Oh. _'Oh_.'

You didn't quite know what to say. 'Is there a…reason?' You ask, immediately regretting it for seeming nosey, or pushy, or as if you were somehow mocking him.

Monro shrugged. 'My age most likely? Or some other unidentified condition.'

'Isn’t there something a doctor could do for you? If you wished, of course.'

The Templar’s responding chuckle was tinged with bitterness. ‘Oh I have tried various _'treatments'_. Lotions, potions, medicines, ointments; to be massaged into the affected…area once a day, twice a day or even three times a day. Numerous exercise and dietary suggestion of which nothing has made the slightest difference.'

'I'm sorry.' You offer, aware that it seemed woefully unhelpful.

Monro waved an elegant hand and scoffed you apologies. 'Don't be. I have enjoyed my share of amorous encounters in my youth. And it doesn't mean to say that I cannot still thoroughly enjoy the company of women.' He indicated you still sprawled on the bed beside him. 'There are so many other ways to bring pleasure. Watching a loved one enjoy your touch, or caress, is always gratifying. Small, intimate actions and affections are still very much pleasurable.'

You felt sorry that you couldn’t offer the same attention that he had served so selflessly onto you. Monro deserved his release as much you or any of the other Templars, but he seemed to have come to terms with his impotence and sought fun where he could. You didn’t want him thinking that you felt sorry for him or were pitying him. You had enjoyed yourself, immensely. The man had real talent, obviously acquired over his long life and other amorous encounters.

'Well I’m not complaining, at any of your actions so far.' You enthuse with a playful purr and the Colonel offers an almost-shy smile.

'I am glad.'

Retreating from the bed, in a somewhat happier mood than a few moments ago, Monro spent a few moments putting his coat back on and rearranging his cravat and cuffs into the normally impeccable state you usually found the military man in.

Once presentable, the Templar aided you in securing the blindfold back in place, in case Charles accused you of cheating, and offered a final, intense kiss, full of caressing tongues and wandering hands. You were sorely tempted to ask him to stay.

‘If you are eve bored you know where to find me.’ You joke and you can hear Monro’s deep chuckle form the doorway.

‘I might take you up on that.’

  


 

 

No sooner had the Colonel departed, and just as you were beginning to stretch out and relax on the bed, than Charles arrived to check on you, claiming your body and mouth for his own.

'Well you seemed to have enjoyed yourself.' He purred.

'Colonel Monro was very attentive.' You retort.

The Templar laughed. 'So you worked out who he was? I hope you didn't cheat.' He murmured, fingers caressing the tails of the blindfold that you and Monro had securely tied back in place.

'I wouldn't do such a thing!' You exclaimed with mock affront. Well technically you didn’t cheat, you knew who it was before you removed the blindfold.

‘Why was I not invited to stay?’ Charles asked, obviously curious why he was banished from the room.

The reason for Monro's desire for having no audience was clear, and you weren’t about to betray his trust or let his secret slip. It was nothing to be ashamed about, but he obviously didn’t want a lot of other people knowing.

 ‘I think he’s a little shy.’ You offer as an explanation.

 Charles accepts without question; too busy excitedly preparing you for what was coming next.

 

 

 


End file.
